


why storms are named after people

by galactichan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Slow Burn, i might add more tags to this idk, sorry? lol, they're broken up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactichan/pseuds/galactichan
Summary: Phil suggests they get coffee, six months after their bitter break up. Turns out being 'just friends' never works out when it's with someone you spent ten years of your life with.





	1. no light, no light

**Author's Note:**

> hey! thanks for wanting to read my fic! i worked super hard on it and i genuinely hope you enjoy it. sorry if it drags a lot asqhdvqddhd enjoy!!

The text came as a surprise to Dan.

 

The noise, the way the name illuminated on his screen as he was busily editing a video, the feeling the words provoked in him. 

 

_ Phil: do you wanna grab a coffee sometime? _

 

Even reading it sent a pang shooting through Dan’s chest. He thought that wound was long gone, stitched up by the passing of time and the suppression of memories. He thought wrong. 

 

Their falling out was painful. Dan didn’t even remember how it started, but he damn well knew how it ended. Phil told him, among other things, to pack his shit and leave, and that’s exactly what he did. Well, he didn’t exactly outright tell Dan that, but it was implied. Within a month, Dan’s whole existence was wiped clean of their apartment, and Phil was left alone for the first time in almost ten years. Dan instinctively reached for his phone, unlocking it and reading the message.

 

Even seeing Phil’s contact photo was painful. It was a random candid picture from months prior, Phil’s mouth pulled into a tight smile, his eyes crinkly, like when he’d laugh at something stupid and Dan would just shake his head at him. Their last text conversation was from five months before, and it was about where to put Dan’s stuff before he came and picked it up. Dan wondered briefly at what Phil had done with his room. Had he made it into something new, like an editing suite, or kept it just as Dan had left it: bleak, dull, devoid of life and wiped clean of any memory that was imposed upon it. He wondered if Phil had even opened the door to that room since Dan left it last. 

 

Dan contemplated on his reply to the text for a while. Why was Phil asking now? Did he suddenly want to be buddies again, and ignore and forget everything that happened? Dan couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Phil wanted to meet up  _ now _ , and for a simple cup of coffee. Out of context it almost seemed like Phil was asking him out on a date, or he was an old friend checking up on their weekly get together at the local cafe. No, it was Phil, his ex-boyfriend, Phil, that he shared his life with for virtually ten years only to break his heart in the end. Though, to be fair, with the things Dan said to him, he knew Phil’s heart was broken too. Maybe that’s what they had in common. Nevertheless, Dan was still hurt by what had happened. 

 

Ten minutes had gone by and Dan still hadn’t answered. He tapped his fingers on the glass, formulating a reply and hitting send. It was funny how a simple text made him so nervous. 

 

_ Dan: for what? _

 

Dan sat back, waiting for Phil’s reply. He wasn’t expecting for the three little dots to show up so soon. He grew ever more nervous.

 

Normally, those dots from Phil would make Dan’s heart and tummy flutter with excitement. Whether Phil was answering on if he wanted Indian or Chinese for dinner, or replying to a dumb meme Dan sent him, Dan was always happy to see Phil responding to him. Now, those fluttery feelings it gave him were nothing but a pit of dread. He almost regretted responding and not just shutting off his phone and ignoring it. 

 

_ Phil: just to catch up _

 

Dan stared down at the words on the screen for what seemed like hours.  _ Catch up?  _ He thought to himself,  _ catch up on what? How many times I’ve cried since the last time I’ve seen you? _

 

What did Phil want? To gloat? To tell Dan that he’d moved on fully and wanted him to do the same, for their sake? That Dan couldn’t hold onto him forever? He went over every possible scenario he could think of. Maybe it was just his inner pessimist talking. 

 

It was almost scary at how upset Dan had become because of Phil. A broken heart was a broken heart, but this, this was so much more. Phil was once a beacon of happiness to him, someone who would cheer him up during his darkest of moments and someone he would look forward to seeing after being apart for an extended period of time. Dan couldn’t understand how Phil could—how they both could—let it get to that point. He was suddenly taken back to that night.

 

Screaming. Insults thrown, words of instant regret exchanged, precious memories turned to dust because of a petty argument that escalated into something far greater.

 

_ I never should’ve stepped off of that platform to see you! Would’ve saved me a lot of heartbreak, wouldn’t it?! _

 

Phil had been taken aback, his jaw squared in that moment, his eyes were fixed on Dan’s and his clenched fists softened. He parted his lips to say the words that would bore a hole into Dan’s heart and burn him for every waking moment thereafter. 

 

_ I can’t believe I wasted ten years of my life on you. _

 

The second the last word left Phil’s lips, Dan decided he was going to leave. Every vile thing he’d said to Phil that night didn’t matter anymore, those words from him were a dagger shooting through his heart and into the flame that Phil had placed there so many years ago. As soon as the words registered in Dan’s head, that flame was snuffed out. All that was left was a pillar of ashes.

 

Perhaps the thing Dan was the most upset about wasn’t the fact that Phil said those words with ease, but that Phil never tried to stop him after he’d declared that he was leaving for good. Never once did Phil ever run out and apologize and beg for Dan to return like he always did after a fight. As fucked up as it sounded, Dan was expecting it. It would be at least an indicator that Phil still had a shred of care left in him for Dan. Instead, all Dan got was an  _ okay  _ and  _ do you need help packing? _

 

He knew that Phil regretted it, and he could feel Phil’s own heartbreak at the situation, but it was too late. Even through Phil’s regret, he didn’t ever apologize. 

 

Granted, neither did Dan. He was suddenly brought back to reality, and the text continued to glare up at him. 

 

_ Dan: sounds fine to me. when? _

 

Dan almost felt insane. It was like they were back to normal again; Phil texting him from their local Starbucks, asking Dan if he wanted anything special. The thought was now foreign to him. Dan had nearly forgotten that they used to do those kinds of things. The three dots showed up again.

 

_ Phil: tomorrow, at 3:30? _

 

Dan found it so utterly ironic at how they didn’t even need to specify where, it was simply obvious to them both. He could play coy and ask Phil at which Starbucks they were to meet, but he damn well knew which one. 

 

_ Dan: sounds good _

 

Dan’s knee bounced. He stared at it, blankly, watching it bob up and down autonomously. It was bouncing the same way as it did when he got on a train to see Phil for the first time. While this moment was similar, it was far less positive and optimistic than that autumnal day in October. Seeing Phil for the first time since their split wouldn’t be the same as the first time seeing him ever. It wouldn’t ever be.

 

_ Phil: great! see you then _

 

Despite everything that happened between them, despite the pain Phil caused him, Dan would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit excited to see him again.

 

He hoped this time wouldn’t be like the last. 

 

* * *

 

Phil clicked off his phone, knowing that Dan had read his last message. He set it down on the coffee table, diverting his eyes back to the television program that was on. It wasn’t like he was paying attention anyway.

 

Phil’s recollection of that night was so clear, he could pinpoint a precise minute and say exactly what they’d said to each other in that moment. The sentence that ended it all was because of him, and he couldn’t vocalize how much remorse he felt because of it. That regret, however, came after Dan was gone. 

 

He had processed what he’d said the first night alone in the apartment, Dan’s room lying vacant and empty. He didn’t realize the weight of his words until it was much too late. He knew not to apologize to Dan then, or just now, because it was simply a lost cause. Dan was a stubborn, fickle creature, and he knew if he called days after their fight to apologize, he would never accept. He never meant to hurt Dan so severely.

 

He figured that perhaps the coffee reunion would be his chance to apologize for good. Phil wanted to apologize personally, face to face, and look Dan in the eyes and say how sorry he was. He wouldn’t beg Dan to come back to him, he just wanted to apologize. For everything. 

 

Phil didn’t want to break up with him. He didn’t. He didn’t want them to go their separate ways, but he figured that Dan had made up his mind, and trying to change it would only cause more anguish between them both. Phil was even planning on being engaged to him within the coming months. 

 

The ring still sat in his bedside drawer.

 

* * *

 

Dan woke up the next morning and immediately knew it was one of those days. He wanted nothing more than to lay in bed all day, scrolling on his laptop for hours and only getting up to use the bathroom and to eat. He knew he had to see Phil, though, and the simple thought became his only motivation for the day.

 

Though, the anxiety almost drove him back to bed.

 

In the weeks following their break up, Dan’s depression worsened like it never had before. It was to be expected; Phil was one of the biggest parts of Dan’s life, and to suddenly lose him was devastating. He spent days under a blackened cloud, and nothing alleviated his emptiness. Food had no taste, sex had no feeling. 

 

He resorted to hooking up with random guys immediately after their break, but it was in vain. It simply left Dan emptier, and after a week or two of continuous one night stands, he stopped completely.

 

And then everything went back to normal. Or, as normal as normal can be without Phil. His depression subsided back to manageable levels, and he became a functional human again. 

 

He dragged his feet across the carpet of his room, opening up his closet and pulling out the clothing he was to wear and setting it out on his bed. He undressed himself of the boxers that he wore to sleep and discarded them onto his floor. The shirt he wore, however, was carefully folded on the right side of his bed. Phil’s old shirt, with a bright graphic on it and the nostalgia of home. After all this time, Dan swore it still smelled like him. Old habits die hard.

 

Dan showered, letting the warm water run over his back and soak through his hair, dripping down his forehead and running down his cheeks. He didn’t even know what to expect of today.

 

Would Phil ignore and glaze over everything? Or would he plead on his knees for Dan’s forgiveness? Dan honestly didn’t know which one he preferred. He was almost certain there would be some sort of apology. On both sides. Dan had a bit of a guilty conscience, and he wasn’t exactly all that innocent himself.

 

He’d like an apology, yes, but he also just wanted everything to go back to normal. He’d drop all of his heartache in an instant if Phil looked him in the face and told Dan he wanted him back. 

 

Dan looked at himself in the mirror, his hair now mostly dry from the shower, his clothes all on, his cologne sprayed, and his heart pounding in his chest. He bit his tongue to keep from breaking down and crying in front of himself.

 

He turned around, grabbed his keys, and walked out of the door to his flat. 

 

He felt like he’d be sick.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dan walked to the Starbucks. It was the middle of summer in London, but he still wore all black, like he always did. Perhaps nothing changed after all.

 

Taxis and double-decker buses filled with tourists whirred passed him in a blurry haze, his hands hidden in his pockets. His phone buzzed.

 

_ Phil: I’m here, I’ll be sitting at a table _

 

Dan looked down at the message and his heart dropped. Knowing that Phil would already be there, waiting for him, made his fingers tingle with nervousness. A pit began to grow in his stomach, and his legs started to feel weak. He opened the door to the Starbucks and kept his eyes ahead, fighting to keep them from wandering. He couldn’t look at him, not yet.

 

The line was three people long, but it felt like forever before Dan got up to order. He absently relayed his order to the barista, his mind elsewhere. He loitered by the counter, off to the side, waiting for his drink. He didn’t even remember what he’d ordered, but when his name was called out, he took the mystery drink and turned around, beginning the game of trying to spot Phil. 

 

It didn’t take long. Dan’s feet involuntarily began to move toward the little two-person table that Phil was sitting at, noting the fact that Phil was looking down at his phone and quite possibly hadn’t even noticed Dan was walking toward him. Maybe he was just as nervous as Dan was. 

 

Phil looked up from his phone as soon as Dan slid into the chair across from him, his hand slowly setting it down and clicking it off. He moved his hands back to the drink in front of him, eyes staring at the person in front of him like he was a stranger. It was like Phil was looking at a ghost.

 

Dan, meanwhile, was studying every detail of Phil’s face like it was the first time he laid eyes on him. He was in a bright button down shirt, with a whimsical design on it, and his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose perfectly.

 

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at each other, diverting their gaze, and then looking back. Neither of them knew what to say. After seven minutes of quiet, Phil parted his lips to speak.

 

“Hey.”

 

The word was breathy, and quiet, and the simple sound of Phil’s voice was enough to reduce Dan to a heaving pile of tears on the floor. Dan flickered his eyes over Phil’s face, tracing over his cheekbones and jaw in his mind. He finally landed on the eyes Dan loved so much, but there was something in them that was missing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

 

“Hey.” Dan replied back. 

 

Phil let out a breath and shifted in his seat, his chest rising with the deep breaths he was taking. Dan could tell he was anxious. He spent ten years with the man, after all. Dan could read Phil’s body language better than the back of his hand.

 

“How are you?” Phil asked, taking a sip of his drink. It took Dan far too long to realize that it was a caramel macchiato. Maybe old habits do die hard.

 

Dan shrugged and sipped his own drink. Double espresso. He’d be up for a while. “I’m good, I guess. Managing.” He looked down for a moment before his gaze moved back to Phil. “You?”

 

Phil blinked a few times and shrugged lazily in response, looking down at his drink before taking another swig. Dan knew for sure he was anxious now. “I’m doing alright.” He answered simply, setting his cup back down and folding his hands over it once more. He shifted again.

 

Dan nodded and lifted his hand up to the table, leaning his cheek on his palm. Phil looked down at his lap and breathed out slowly.

 

“Um, I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to meet up today.” 

 

Dan chuckled in response, his eyes going wide for a moment, his back straightening before he settled back down. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”

 

Phil fiddled with his hands, picking at the skin on the sides of his fingernails, his eyes moving anywhere but on Dan. He breathed out through his nose slowly. “I wanted to apologize.”

 

Dan cocked an eyebrow, but other than that, his expression was unphased. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, almost afraid of what Phil was to say.

 

Phil nodded and looked back to him. “I said things to you that, that I regret.” He tapped his fingers quietly on the table. “And I don’t like knowing that I upset you so much, I’m so sorry for hurting you, Dan. I just want you to know that.”

 

Dan processed what Phil said to him slowly, cherishing each and every word that passed his lips. He was expecting some sort of apology, but at the same time, he wasn’t expecting  _ that _ . He was expecting an ‘I’m sorry’, and then a change of subject. Sure, Phil wasn’t on his knees pleading for Dan to return, but it was a lot better than what Dan had expected. His mouth curled up into a little smile. It felt like it’d been a while since he smiled. 

 

“It’s okay.” Dan reached out and brushed Phil’s hand, and the simple feeling of his skin was enough to make Dan want to launch into his arms. “I appreciate the apology, thank you. I’m sorry too, Phil. And I want  _ you  _ to know that as well.”

 

Phil perked up and smiled warmly at him, nodding and looking back down at his lap. “And I’m sorry we didn’t talk for so long. It’s been, how many months? Five? Six?” He sighed out and his eyes darted back up. “And what happens now? We go back to not talking? We ignore each other’s existence some more?”

 

It was like a slap in the face of reality for Dan. Would they go back to that? After they were finished their drinks, would they walk out of that Starbucks, go separate directions, and not talk to each other again for God knows how long? Dan couldn’t fathom the thought anymore. Now that they were talking again, it would be even harder to say goodbye a second time. Especially now that they’d issued apologies toward each other.

 

Even in this setting, the awkwardness of an apology and the silence of having not seen each other since they were fighting was enough for them both. Even if they weren’t partners anymore, the simple joy of being able to talk to their  _ best friend  _ again was better than staying angry forever.

 

“I’m okay with doing things like this with you.” Dan said, finishing off his drink. “As friends, of course.”

 

Phil nodded, smiling to himself and peeking out from under his glasses. “Sounds good to me.”

The rest of their little date—if it even was allowed to be called a date—was spent making small talk about various things, and at one point, they both mutually decided that it was time to leave. It’d been two hours since the start of their conversation.

 

They hugged before they left. It was warm, and familiar, and they lingered in each other’s arms for a few seconds longer than they should have. 

 

* * *

 

Phil walked into his apartment, flicking on the light and kicking off his shoes, plopping himself down on the couch and pulling his phone out from his jeans pocket. He opened his messages, staring at the blue and grey backgrounds of each other’s replies, debating with himself on whether or not he should text Dan, not to make small talk like they had been doing, but to  _ talk  _ to him, like they used to. To spend hours glued to his phone, laughing at the dumb things Dan would send him. 

 

He decided on no. Not yet, anyway. He’d give it some time before they could do that again. It was like they were starting all over again, and Phil was walking on eggshells.

 

Little did Phil know that Dan was doing the same thing in his own apartment.

 

Dan was on his bed, his eyes fixed up on the ceiling, wanting nothing more than to text Phil all night and laugh knowing that Phil was cracking up on the other side. He was happy to know he could call Phil his friend again, and that eventually they would be able to send each other stupid memes and videos of dogs, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

 

They couldn’t ever be ‘just friends’.


	2. sometimes when i miss you, i put those records on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this sucks really bad or drags it took me so long to write and i tried so hard. sorry in advance

There had been a silence between them for a day and a half before Dan decided to text Phil again.

 

He’d been waiting, for what seemed like a whole eternity, only to no avail. Dan figured they were both playing the ‘I’ll wait for him to text me first’ game. Dan was sick of waiting. Maybe he missed Phil more than he thought.

 

It was funny how a little coffee date could make Dan long for him far more than he ever did when they weren’t talking. It was like everything that happened between them dissipated and they could go back to eating pizza on the couch and watching Netflix together. But they couldn’t.

 

Phil was in the kitchen when his phone buzzed on the counter, causing his attention to divert from the coffee mug in his hands.

 

Phil didn’t change the apartment much after Dan left. Besides the things Dan took, as well as his barren room, the place remained the same. It was just a little bit emptier. And, despite Dan’s typical brand of ‘dark and broody’, the apartment seemed darker without him. 

 

It was difficult for a while. It got lonely, and Phil swore the flat was ten degrees cooler. He’d find himself, out of habit, searching for a box of Crunchy Nut to dive his hand into, only to remember that it wouldn’t be there. Phil would be sitting on the couch, and he could hear Dan’s voice, like a phantom. Saying things like ‘oh, fucking hell!’, whenever he’d die playing a video game in his bedroom. He knew Dan was still breathing, but it was like Phil was living with a ghost of him.  

 

He reached for his phone, setting the cereal box down ( _ his own _ cereal box) and reading the message Dan had sent him.

 

_ Dan: you wanna grab a bite to eat sometime? doesn’t have to be anywhere special we can go out for whatever _

 

Phil looked down at the message and he could feel his heart clamor in his chest. It was comforting to know Dan wanted to see him again.Phil spent so long thinking that Dan hated him that he’d forgotten that he could even mean something to Dan. He frantically tapped on his screen to reply.

 

_ Phil: sure! do you have anywhere in mind? _

 

Dan stared down at his phone for a moment, his mind swimming with places. He had to think of where they could go. From sushi bars to upscale Italian restaurants, he was sure they’d dined all over London. It would be difficult to come up with somewhere they  _ hadn’t  _ been. 

 

_ Dan: we could go out for Chinese? Or maybe Indian? _

 

He hoped Phil wouldn’t choose somewhere they’d been to on a date. Dan wouldn’t be able to handle the tainting of a date night or anniversary meal memory to a broken up dinner memory. It would have to stand as a reminder of the spark they lost. 

 

_ Phil: Chinese sounds great _

 

Dan already knew what restaurant they’d go to, exactly what they’d order, and the place they’d be sitting, all without even knowing the specifics. Sure, they were starting their friendship over, but one couldn’t ignore how much time they spent with each other. They still knew one another like the back of their hands; inside and out.

 

_ Phil: why don’t we just order Chinese takeaway and you can hang out here _

 

Dan was almost expecting something like that from Phil. Phil was fine formally dining out, but he much preferred staying in with takeaway and a video game. It was probably his anxiety. Not like Dan was complaining, though. Maybe it would be like old times. 

 

_ Dan: that’s fine. the usual? _

 

Their ‘usual’ came from a little Chinese place not far from the apartment, and they ordered the exact same things every time, usually picking off of each other’s plates. They were creatures of habit, after all.

 

_ Phil: yep. when? _

 

The question Dan had been dreading. He didn’t want to seem clingy and suggest tomorrow night, but he also didn’t want to be distant and set a date for a week in advance or longer. He settled on Friday. It was only two days.

 

_ Dan: friday, around 5? _

 

A pit in his stomach began to form. The three dots showed up almost immediately.

 

_ Phil: sounds great, see you then _

 

Dan smiled to himself, clicking the button on the side of his phone and watching the screen go black. Dan didn’t realize how lonely he’d become after their split. Sure, they both had other friends, but those friends were always busy with families to take care of or business trips to take. When he was with Phil, he always had a friend, a partner. It’d been a long while since he’d hung out with anyone. 

 

Except, now, that ‘friend’ was his former lover and they were just getting over a messy and complicated break up. Feelings were still there, on Dan’s side at least. He was still very much in love with him, but couldn’t risk their slowly rebuilding friendship just so he could admit that he still had feelings for Phil. Dan also had no idea if Phil felt the same way. His confession could be in vain. 

 

Nonetheless, Dan was still excited to spend time with him, like they used to, regardless of their relationship status. 

  
  


* * *

 

Phil set his phone down and walked out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, steam rising from the mug and curling around his arm before dissipating into nothing. He sat down on the right side of the couch, put his feet up, and clicked on the TV. Even after so long, Phil still left a space open for Dan. The spot to the left of him was vacant. 

 

He was nervous about their takeaway dinner later. Not for the fact that they’d be with each other, spending their time together like they used to, but for what came after it. He didn’t know if Dan still had feelings for him, or just wanted a purely platonic relationship from this, but the possibilities terrified him. Phil honestly didn’t know what he’d prefer. A friendship would be easier; they’d done that already, and their falling out had occured whilst they were in a not-so-platonic relationship. Starting an intimate affair over with Dan would be difficult, but not impossible. He pushed the thought back. Phil would address his enduring feelings for Dan later. 

 

For now, he thought of what they could do, what they could talk about. Things they didn’t touch upon in the Starbucks, like how Dan’s mum was doing, or if he was practicing his self-care routine. Perhaps they’d play Mario Kart, and get really nostalgic for the past. Phil debated on whether or not a Mario Kart game would be too soon. He’d leave it up to the moment. 

 

Phil would have to dust, and make sure the apartment was decent looking, at least. It was ironic how Dan had gone from someone living in the apartment to someone Phil would have to clean up for. Dan was no longer an inhabitant of the space, he was a guest. 

 

Phil wouldn’t touch Dan’s room, though. 

 

* * *

 

Friday. 4:43pm. The busy streets of London accompanied Dan on his path to the flat he once lived in. Now, he was just a stranger to it. His hands were back in his pockets, like they always were, and his feet independently marched him toward his destination. Dan swore he could be blindfolded and still know the way to the flat. He pulled his phone out of his jeans.

 

_ Dan: might be there early, just to let you know _

 

Phil received it as soon as he’d walked in with their takeaway. He didn’t need to ask Dan what he’d want. It was an unspoken thing, they never had to ask. They just  _ knew _ . He chuckled down at the message.

 

_ Phil: typical dan. see you soon lol _

 

Dan smiled at Phil’s reply and slid his phone back into it’s black denim cage. He didn’t know why, but the informalness of the ‘lol’ and the language Phil used made Dan’s stomach grow butterflies. It was how Phil would text when they were together. He could see the building down the block, and his heart thumped a bit faster. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The sound of Dan knocking on the door was bittersweet.

 

Dan had been all too familiar with that door. He’d held it open for Phil when they’d go out. He’d shut it too harshly after they’d get home and would immediately cringe at the slam. He’d been held against it during a few particularly intense makeout sessions, hands and fingers roaming everywhere across shirt fabric and under jeans. To have to knock on it meekly stung a little bit.

 

Phil answered the door with a bright smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He held it open for Dan to come in, stepping out of his way. “Hey!” Phil chirped, closing the door as soon as Dan was inside. “Chinese is on the coffee table. I set up the Switch so we can play Mario Kart, if you want.”

 

Dan smiled to himself. It really was like nothing had happened at all. “That sounds perfect.”

 

Dan began to walk further into the apartment, stepping into the lounge and sitting down on the sofa. In his spot. He swore the crease was still there, like the day he left. 

 

Phil hadn’t changed a thing, except for the few little collectibles Dan had taken with him. It almost seemed like the flat had been frozen in time.

 

* * *

 

The Chinese was decent, and though it came from the same place that they’d always gotten it from, something tasted off about it. There was something, missing in it. They both decided to let it go.

 

Mario Kart was a mess of shallow, friendly threats and trash talk. The tension between them disappeared. Phil put up a good fight and was able to pull ahead in a few races, but ultimately lost to Dan, like always. 

 

“So, what’ve you been up to?” Phil asked, his thumbs busily working at the controller in his hands, his eyes fixed on the game. It was a topic of conversation they never got to at Starbucks.

 

Dan shrugged in response, his attention too absorbed in beating Phil in another race. “Eh, nothing much, really. Trying to remain functional throughout my depressive episodes.” He added a laugh at the end.

 

Phil’s eyes darted to Dan for a moment, and they seemed to linger on him for a while. It was something he pondered about often: if Dan was doing okay with his mental health. To hear that he was trying to ‘remain functional’ made his blood run cold. He couldn’t help but blame himself. He was no longer there to remind Dan to take his medication (if he had been prescribed any to take at the time), he was no longer there to run him baths if things became really bad, he was no longer there to remind Dan to eat something. Phil knew that Dan could handle himself without him, Dan wasn’t completely reliant on Phil, but to hear that Dan was struggling, even a little bit, hurt. It hurt even more to know that Phil couldn’t even help him. His eyes moved back to the game and Dan changed the subject.

 

“How about you, eh?” He asked, moving back on the sofa, his tongue poking through his lips. “Have you seen anyone?”

 

Phil chuckled, his eyebrows shooting up for a moment. “Yeah. I saw a guy for a few weeks, it didn’t work out, though. We weren’t good together.”

 

Dan could feel the lump in his throat start to get heavier. He tried not to let his facial expressions show it. Dan remained as interested in the subject as he could allow himself to be. “Yeah?” He asked, looking down at the floor as soon as the race ended, his attention immediately diverting elsewhere. He didn’t want to provoke it further, but knew he had to. To be polite, at least. “Was he nice?”

 

Phil shrugged and set the controller down on the coffee table, turning his head so he could look at the man he spent so much time comparing dates to. In an instant he let his head fall, so as to not raise any suspicions on Dan’s end. No need to move so fast, this was only their second time meeting, after all. “Yeah,” Phil answered, chuckling to himself, “he was nice. But as I said, we weren’t good together. We weren’t, compatible.”

 

Dan nodded in response, picking his head up slowly, though the weight of his thoughts were almost too much to lift. He traced his eyes over Phil’s face, debating on how or when or if he should say what he wanted to get off of his chest. He opened his mouth and the words spewed out like tears on cheeks. “Was it Charlie?”

 

Phil lifted his head up, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, his hands clasping with each other. His spine lifted off of the back of the sofa. He pressed his lips together taut before opening them to answer Dan’s question. “No, it.. It wasn’t Charlie, no.” He relaxed once more, settling back down. “You don’t know him.”

 

Dan mentally punched himself in the face for bringing up the topic. He knew he’d think about it later, and internalize Phil’s answer into the early hours of the morning. Dan wasn’t exactly all that innocent either; he  _ did  _ have numerous one night stands with many different men in the weeks following their split, but never once wanted anything to go further with them. For Phil to start a new relationship so soon stung more than Dan would like to admit. Granted, Phil did break up with the guy, but Dan was still hurt nonetheless. Dan’s eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. 

 

* * *

 

The goodbyes were a bit awkward, to say the least. Neither of them knew if they should hug, given the rocky nature of the one conversation they had, or just say goodbye and go. They decided on a hug, but it ended up being an uncomfortable, quick peck of a hug. This was Dan and Phil, afterall. The absence of even just a little bit of awkwardness would be out of character for them. 

 

After Phil closed the door, Dan lingered in the hallway for a while, his feet not quite ready to accept the fact that this wasn’t a return to  _ home _ , and that he had to go back to his not-quite home sooner or later. 

 

It was dark on the way back. The streetlights illuminated his face as he walked under them, and when he stepped out of their range his shadow was the only thing that draped over him. It was very reminiscent of the walks he’d take when he’d have a particularly bad day, or week, with his depression. He looked like a phantom in the darkness. 

 

His apartment wasn’t a pleasant thing to come back to, but his bed was. Like the sofa in the apartment—or, now just  _ Phil’s  _ apartment—Dan’s bed formed a distinctive crease in the shape of him, and it was always a comforting thing to be welcomed back to. He stood at the foot of it and let all of his weight fall forward, his face crashing into his pillow. He turned over so he could lay on his back for a while. His phone buzzed. 

 

_ Phil: i’m glad you came over for dinner, i had a great night. do you wanna do it again sometime? _

 

Dan could’ve laughed. Was this date night now? What the hell was Phil trying to do? Just be friends, or something else? Perhaps it was just a way for Phil to check up on him, make sure he was okay. Dan honestly didn’t know what to say.

 

On one hand, he risked ruining it all over again if they continued to become close. Neither of them could ruin anything if they didn’t see each other. That came at a price as well, though. 

 

_ Dan: sure. pick the time and place _

 

_ Phil: i already picked it this time. your turn now _

 

Typical Phil. Dan rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

 

_ Dan: alright. give me some time to think _

 

_ Phil: okay, just let me know _

 

Dan left it at that. He clicked his phone off, setting it down on his nightstand and going back to just laying there. His mind swarmed.

 

How could Phil just, move on so quickly? How could he start a relationship  _ just like that?  _ Did Dan mean nothing to him? Dan figured that, although they did have a bitter break up, he must’ve meant at least something to Phil. It was almost seven months later and Dan didn’t even want to think of being ready to start a new relationship. Maybe he never would be ready. 

 

It hurt to know Phil had already moved on and Dan was still dreaming about the past.


	3. the hardest part of this is leaving you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter contains depressive themes, if you believe it will trigger you, by all means please avoid it!
> 
> also again im sorry if this drags or gets boring in parts

Dan never texted Phil back. 

 

It had been almost two weeks. Phil mentioned his mental health the last time they saw each other, and because Dan never knocked on wood, his long-brewing depression returned with a vengeance. It dug it’s ugly hook into him and would not dislodge. It would just be one of those weeks. Maybe a few weeks.

 

In the midst of the haze that was his mind, he forgot to text Phil. He only realized that when Phil texted him instead. 

 

_ Phil: hey haven’t heard from you in a while lol _

 

Dan was surprised Phil hadn’t figured it out yet. He was usually on top of things like this; Dan honestly thought that Phil knew when an episode was coming before it even began. It truly solidified the length of their separation.

 

_ Dan: yeah im fine, sorry _

 

On the other side of the screen, Phil was fidgeting. He knew what it meant when Dan became distant and vague with his answers, but at the same time he didn’t want to overanalyze and get it wrong completely and make himself look like a clingy, overprotective asshole. 

 

Phil decided in the end that it was worth asking Dan and bringing it up. He’d be more guilty if his hunch was correct and he did nothing about it. 

 

_ Phil: you okay?  _

 

Dan’s head swarmed. It was like a migraine, but instead of the piercing pain, it was a long, dull ache. He felt like television static. 

 

_ Dan: yeah im fine _

 

Dan couldn’t allow himself to be a burden to Phil, not again. Phil had taken care of him enough when they were together, he didn’t need to take care of him now. 

 

_ Phil: you sure? _

 

That was the problem, though. Dan knew Phil was persistent and wouldn’t let him get away with it that easily. He never did. Dan always tried to brush it off or hide it, but Phil saw right through him like he was transparent. Dan didn’t reply for a while. 

 

His phone began to ring. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Everything okay?”

 

Dan noted that Phil sounded genuinely concerned, his voice wavering a little at the edges. Maybe he was still on top of it. 

 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He could hear Phil sigh into the receiver. 

 

“Tell me the truth.”

 

Dan chewed on his bottom lip, picking at his fingernails on the hand that wasn’t preoccupied. 

 

“Feeling a little under the weather is all.”

 

“In what way?”

 

This is what Dan hated about Phil, but also loved at the same time. Phil was always stubborn about things like this; he was always determined to make sure Dan was well taken care of. 

 

“You know what way.”

 

There was a long silence. Neither of them knew what to say. Phil, finally, parted his lips and spoke after almost two minutes.

 

“I’m coming over.”

 

Dan didn’t have the time, nor energy, to protest. 

 

“O-Okay.” He stuttered, his chest becoming heavy with each passing second.

 

“I’ll see you soon.” Phil hung up the phone, and Dan let his slump back down to his lap, pulling the blanket up further.

 

* * *

 

Phil moved quickly. It was late afternoon when he’d decided to make the call, and, naturally, he’d done nothing all day and had to change into a pair of jeans. He hobbled down the hallway as he buckled his belt. 

 

Without wasting a moment, he was dressed, everything he needed was grabbed, and he was out of the door in ten minutes. 

 

He had a feeling Dan was riding through an episode, and his only regret was that he didn’t text him sooner. When the one week mark hit, he should’ve known. 

 

He’d save that guilt for later. For now, he’d focus on Dan.

 

Phil had only seen Dan’s apartment a total of two times, and they were both for the purpose of moving his things out. He wondered how many times his depression had gotten this bad before they started talking again. Phil shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it.

 

Phil was lonely walking to Dan’s apartment. Usually when he was the one to go out and get things, it was always a joy to know he’d come home to someone. It was especially a joy knowing that someone was Dan. Plus he always got cute texts no matter how long he was gone. 

 

Now it was just, melancholy. At least the walk didn’t take long.

 

 

* * *

 

The door was unlocked and, knowing that Dan wouldn’t want him to knock, Phil walked right in, like he lived there. The irony.

 

His lips curled into a tiny smile when he saw Dan curled up on the couch. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, it was a sight he was well accustomed to, and he knew exactly how to handle it. Phil liked the familiarity of the situation, made him forget their whole mess for a moment. 

 

“How do you feel?” 

 

Dan groaned and chuckled, rolling his eyes and peeking out a little bit  from the blanket that was draped over him. 

 

“Like shit.”

 

Phil nodded and looked down for a moment, eyes flicking back to Dan. “Have you eaten?”

 

Dan nodded in response.

 

“Have you showered? Washed at all?”

 

Silence. Not even a nod. Phil folded his arms over his chest.

 

“I’m running you a bath.”

 

Dan whipped his head up at him. “Phil, you—you don’t have to do that—“

 

“I’m going to anyways.” Phil cut him off swiftly.

 

“Phil—”

 

Phil shook his head and turned around, walking down the hall to the bathroom. “I don’t wanna hear it!” He laughed. “Do you want bubbles? A bath bomb?”

 

Dan groaned and threw his legs over the side of the couch, tossing the blanket off. “Bubbles.” He answered, loud enough for Phil to hear, but still quiet enough so that it wouldn’t make his head throb. 

 

Phil opened the bathroom door and pulled back the shower curtain, stooping down to his knees. He started the tap, twisting the faucets and letting the water warm up. Dan finally trudged down the hall and stood at the door frame, his arms draped around himself tightly. Phil turned around.

 

“C’mere, tell me if the water’s okay.”   
  


Dan stepped forward into the bathroom, bending over to let the water run over his hand. 

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Phil nodded, standing and tilting an eyebrow up. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?”

 

Dan parted his lips to say something, but no words came out. He was absolutely dumbfounded, his eyes going wide, but not comically so. Just a tad, enough to get the ‘are you fucking serious?’ look across. He figured that Phil would at least step out and let him undress privately. Though, it was fair. It wasn’t anything Phil hadn’t seen before. 

 

Dan tossed his shirt onto the cool tile of his bathroom floor, pulling down and kicking off his pajama bottoms and boxers, letting them both rest next to his shirt. 

 

Phil was completely unphased. He didn’t even flinch, his face remained fully stoic and serious. Dan was almost disappointed, but, again, it was nothing new to Phil. He stepped aside so Dan could step into the tub.

 

The water was hot against Dan’s unusually cold skin. His body was typically unbelivably warm, radiating heat and making everything around him a cozy, inviting temperature. Now he was just, cold. That’s what happened whenever he had an episode; no matter how many layers he wore or how many blankets he curled up under, he was always left frigid. The water was helping at least. Phil remembered the bubbles, too, which was a plus. 

 

Dan let himself submerge under the water, going down until it reached his chest. Phil knelt back to his knees, stooping down to Dan’s level and reaching for the shampoo on the ledge. 

 

“Sit up for me a little bit?”

 

Dan pushed himself up, sighing out and keeping his hands down in the water, near his lap. His eyes were fixed on a patch of bubbles in front of him.

 

Phil dipped his hands into the water, cupping some of it and bringing it back up, pouring it onto Dan’s head to dampen his hair. He poured the shampoo into his palm, rubbing it into his hands and moving back to Dan. He slowly massaged it into his curls, letting it become sudsy. 

 

Dan closed his eyes. The soapy mixture began to drip down his forehead, and all he wanted to focus on was the feeling of Phil’s hands in his hair. It would at least distract him from his thoughts, if only for a moment. He missed this, as fucked up as it sounded. He missed being taken care of. He missed being a priority. 

 

Phil dunked his hands back into the water again, rinsing off the shampoo and moving onto the conditioner. He repeated everything. 

 

Dan stayed silent and still the entire time. Besides his rhythmic breaths, he was completely and utterly motionless. The absence of Phil’s hands in his hair was enough to bring him back to reality.

 

“Dan?”

 

Dan opened his eyes, and they flickered up to Phil, his head turning along with them. “Yeah?”

 

“You okay?”

 

He nodded, laying back down in the tub, staring at the wall in front of him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

 

Phil relaxed his posture, leaning back and sitting down, stretching his legs out and sitting beside the tub quietly. There was a silence between them once more. That was happening a lot lately; not like either of them were surprised. 

 

Phil stared down at his lap for a while, listening to the droplets of water from the faucet fall and splash down. He was left to his own thoughts for a while. Thoughts of what could be, and what couldn’t be, and Dan. Dan and how much he hated seeing him so low. How much he worried that this was his fault, that he was to blame for this episode. He broke the stillness, finally. Phil had to ask. It was something he thought about often, but was too afraid to ask.

 

“Dan?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Phil swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry. “Is it me?”

 

Dan shifted in the water and blinked, eyes still on the wall. “Not entirely.”

 

Phil pressed his lips together and flickered his eyes up from his lap, looking at the wall again. “Then what is it?”

 

Dan craned his head so that he’d be looking at Phil, peering at him for a long time before answering his question. “It’s everything, Phil.”

 

Phil purposely avoided Dan’s gaze. He knew it was there, and he could see it out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t have the heart to acknowledge it. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or guilty about Dan’s answer; it wasn’t  _ all  _ him, but at the same time he played a major role in the ‘everything’ Dan was referring to. It would be real if he looked at him. He nodded slowly in response. 

 

“Why don’t we get you to bed, yeah?”

 

Dan turned his head back and nodded, setting his jaw and looking down at the water. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

Phil stood up and grabbed Dan’s towel off of the rack on the door, slinging it over his shoulder and turning back around and offering his hand to Dan. Dan took it, grabbed hold of it, and didn’t want to let go. 

 

Phil let Dan slowly step out of the tub, setting his hand down on the small of his back, guiding him onto the tile floor carefully. Phil swung the towel off of his shoulder and handed it to Dan as soon as he was balanced enough. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Dan nodded, wrapping the fluffy towel around his chest, water droplets dribbling on the floor around him. He sniffled, the cool air of the bathroom making the warmth he obtained from the water disappear instantly. The parts of his back that Phil touched were particularly icy. 

 

Phil held Dan’s clothes that he had changed out of, noticing that the shirt Dan had was actually his; one that he swore he lost and searched for ages trying to find. He didn’t notice earlier, but it wasn’t like he minded. Dan used to steal and wear his shirts all the time, letting them sling over his shoulder, wearing them with only a pair of boxers underneath. Phil always loved when his shirts would go missing and miraculously appear on Dan. It made their relationship feel more intimate; knowing they did little domestic things like that. Maybe Dan missed him more than he originally thought.

 

He’d think about it later.

 

Dan took the clothes Phil held, redressing himself behind the safety of the towel. It wasn’t that he was suddenly self conscious, he couldn’t care less if Phil could see him The towel simply provided the warmth he desperately craved until he clothed himself again. 

 

Though, all he wanted to do was drop the towel and stand stark naked in front of Phil, eyes saying ‘ _ ravage me’.  _

 

Dan hung the towel back up as soon as he was finished, Phil opening the bathroom door for them both. 

 

“C’mon, lets get you to bed.”

 

He returned his hand to Dan’s back, leading him down the hallway and to his bedroom. 

 

“Did you ask your psychiatrist if you could be prescribed medication again?”

 

Dan shook his head quietly. He opened up his bedroom door, the darkness spilling out into the hallway and swallowing them both whole. Phil flicked on the light. “Do you want me to call and ask?”

 

Dan shook his head again, lifting up his comforter and crawling under slowly. “Thank you, though.”

 

Phil stood at Dan’s door frame, his shoulder slumped against it, hands in his pockets. “Dan?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Text me, okay? I’ll always care about you. I hate seeing you like this.”

 

Dan stared at him. He took a particularly long time registering Phil’s words, and as soon as it hit him, his chest became heavy. He couldn’t cry, not here, not now. Not in front of Phil. He nodded. 

 

“Thanks, Phil.” Dan was genuinely surprised it didn’t come out as a blubbering sob. 

 

Phil smiled to himself, nodding and taking his hands out of his pockets. “Do you want the light off?”

 

Dan chuckled, trying to hide his own little smile, his dimples popping. “Yes please.”

 

Phil smiled wider and reached up, flipping the switch down, watching the lights of Dan’s ceiling fan dim quickly. “Goodnight, Dan.” 

 

Dan smiled wider through the darkness. “Goodnight, Phil.” 

 

Phil stepped out, leaving the door open ajar so he could peek back in. “Text me if you need me.” He closed the door delicately, clicking it shut.

 

Dan listened to Phil’s footsteps move about his apartment, drifting off to a quiet murmur as Phil walked out and back to his own flat. He rolled over and faced his wall. 

 

“I’ll always need you.”

 

It was a nearly inaudible whisper, but it might as well have been a scream. 

 

He finally let himself cry, tucking his face into his pillow and letting the tears seep into it. The heaviness in his chest began to subside, and the sobs that were trapped in his throat were released, growing like vines and spilling from his lips. 

 

The feeling of Phil’s hands on him never left. 


	4. have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter contains sexual scenes and themes as well as panic attacks/anxiety
> 
> i'm sorry if this is more of a filler or if it's too cliche. i hope you enjoy either way!

Phil closed the door of his apartment, breathing out deeply, setting his keys in the bowl on the table next to the door. He needed a shower.

 

It was his ninth time visiting Dan’s place in the span of a two week period, and two and a half months since the coffee. Dan was getting better, but, he still needed help to try and get out of bed in the morning, and Phil was more than happy to volunteer. He lost count of how many bubble baths he’d run for Dan.

 

Dan, as stated, was getting better. His depression was slowly receding back into it’s cave and returning to levels that Dan could deal with. Levels he could live with, for the time being. He’d be lying if he said Phil wasn’t part of the reason of why it decided to go away. 

 

Phil’s phone beeped, and he had to postpone his shower a few minutes to read it. 

 

_ Dan: hey, thanks for taking care of me. maybe we can go out to dinner? on me this time _

 

Phil smiled down at the screen, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was well worth delaying his shower to read. 

 

_ Phil: sounds good. pick the place and we’ll go _

 

_ Dan: alrighty, see you soon _

 

Phil finally set his phone down on the ledge of the sink, the steam from the running water enveloping him. He stood in the cascade for a few moments, letting it saturate his body and drip over his back. He ran his fingers through his now soaked hair, closing his eyes before it ran down his face. 

 

He stood in the water for a while, letting the pattering of the droplets hitting the tile of the shower floor try to clear his mind. It worked for a little while, but it ultimately reset back to Dan. Like always. 

 

Phil lathered up his hair with the same shampoo and conditioner he always used, the raspberry scent diffusing through the room and mixing in with the steam. He tried to focus on his hands; massaging the shampoo into his hair, rinsing it off, repeating the steps with the soap and his body. Everything led back to Dan.

 

Everything led back to Dan, and his hands drifted down.

 

They drifted down past his stomach, his fingers wrapping around himself tightly, pumping slowly. It happened so fast Phil didn’t have time to stop himself, but it wasn’t like he would’ve anyway. He chewed on his bottom lip, head tilting back, free arm moving up and bracing himself on the wall. His imaginative desires ran wild. 

 

Everything was Dan. Dan writhing under him, breathily whimpering  _ “Phil..!”   _ like he used to. Dan bouncing on his waist, mouth parted open and letting out strings of little moans. Dan sloppily moving his lips down Phil’s neck and clawing at his back, squirming against Phil’s hips and begging him to go harder, faster. Phil kept his eyes screwed shut, trying his best to imagine him, moaning out a few  _ ‘Dan’ _ s of his own. 

 

He wanted so much for Dan to be in the shower with him. To press his hands against the glass and create prints through the condensation. He wanted so badly for Dan to wrap around him oh so perfectly, beg for him, do everything they used to do when they decided to make love in the shower. When they had enough love to make it. Now, it was just Phil, and he was alone.

 

It was over in a few minutes. Phil groaned, scrunching up his face, the hand leaning on the wall clenching into a tight fist. His legs felt like jelly and he was grateful he’d decided to put that hand up before reaching the heat of it. He panted, trying desperately to catch his breath, his chest expanding, rising and falling sporadically with each inhale. He opened his eyes and watched his ten minute fantasy run down the drain, out of sight, out of  _ him _ . He turned around, switched off the water, and pulled the glass door of the shower open. Phil stepped out and onto the bathroom floor, the jitteriness of his release still racing through him. 

 

Phil wrapped the towel around his waist, opening up the bathroom door and walking out, flicking the light off. Water dripped off of him all the way down the hall, his feet leaving damp footprints in the carpeting. The moment he reached his room, the guilt set in. 

 

It was like this often. If he was left alone with his thoughts and it was late at night, or like then in the shower, they’d always end up conjuring a repressed fantasy that would crawl to the surface and force his hand further down. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy every last second of it. Every second of his hand tightly gripping his cock, imagining it as Dan’s mouth or Dan’s ass or just Dan. Everything about him. He loved the sickening fantasies he’d come up with. Pounding into Dan mercilessly on the couch; making Dan ride him in bed until he was sore and overstimulated; cumming all over Dan’s face after he deepthroated his cock. 

 

That was where the guilt came in. He didn’t want it to escalate to this; he quite enjoyed spending time with Dan as just friends, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t in their nature to have a fully platonic relationship. It never was. The foundation of their whole,  _ thing, _ was built on and started with flirtation and amorous desire. They had a platonic side to their partnership of course, and they absolutely considered one another as their best friend, but they had been in a relationship for so long that it was foreign to be ‘just friends’. He knew Dan felt the same way, he didn’t even have to ask; after ten years of being with the guy Phil probably knew Dan better than he did himself. Phil figured that was the reason why it took so long to reach out.

 

It was hard, in the beginning, for Phil. He knew it was hard for Dan too, but it was difficult to come home to an empty apartment. He spent his nights thinking he’d forgotten something, searching in every room for an invisible object, only to realize that he was missing Dan. To say the apartment wasn’t the same without Dan would be an understatement. It was a dull, numbing feeling for a few weeks, but after a month it began to plateau, and he was accustomed to it. The life he had was like a distant memory.

 

To Phil, he was split into three distinct stages: life before Dan, life with Dan, and life after Dan. Before it was only two, but circumstance forced him to add a third. Dan was the great love of his life, someone he’d sworn people only found in movies. He never planned to live in ‘life after Dan’, and now that he was, it was utter hell. To know that he was the reason he had to live in it was even worse. He never meant to hurt Dan like that, and he didn’t want to go that far. It was a rash thought, one that as soon as it popped into his conscience he just, said. As soon as it left his lips, it was an instant regret. The words ‘ _ I can’t believe I wasted ten years on you’  _ hung heavily on him the moment he said them. How could he call the best moments of his whole life thus far a waste? He’d give anything to go back in time to be the bigger person and say nothing; to let Dan cool off, to let it go. Maybe he wouldn’t be so lonely. 

 

He might even be engaged. They might have been planning a wedding; going to bakeries to taste overly sweet cakes and trying to pick out the perfect tux. The ring wouldn’t be sitting in Phil’s bedside drawer, instead it would have a happy home on Dan’s left hand. Where it belonged. The possibilities of  _ what if  _ were enough to make Phil tear up and make his chest feel heavy. He changed his thought.

 

Phil felt guilty for wanting Dan to be more than a friend. He should be happy that Dan still wanted to talk to him at all, let alone be his friend again. He wanted to desperately be satisfied with Dan as he was now, just a friend, but he couldn’t. He longed for what they had, for what they could have. To him, there would always be something missing if he had to keep it only a friendship; he’d miss their intimacy. Not even the sex; he’d miss it, sure, but he’d happily give up their sexual intimacy for their everyday domestic intimacy. Waking up before Dan and running his fingers through chestnut curls, making coffee in the morning for him and lazy kisses on cheeks. He longed for that most.  _ That  _ was normalcy to him, and any relationship with Dan that didn’t have that just, wasn’t right. 

 

Those intimate moments were all packed away in boxes. Memories he could hold in his hands, locked behind glass and a frame. Candid moments from various vacations and trips they’d taken together. He tried so hard not to erase Dan from him, but to numb the pain of the scar Dan left.

 

Phil sat down on his bed, taking the towel and shaking it atop his head, wringing out the excess water from his hair. He eyed up his phone next to him, debating in his head on whether or not he should ask. 

 

On one hand, Dan could say yes. Dan could say yes, and Phil would be able to slowly build them up again, and quite possibly rekindle their spark. The prospect made Phil’s chest feel heavy and light at the same time. 

 

But on the other hand, Dan could say no. Dan could be disgusted with the proposition, rejecting him and distancing himself again, causing even more pain for Phil. It could be the end of whatever they had now, forever. He may never speak to Dan again.

 

He decided that it was worth the risk. He picked up his phone, opened his messages, and stared down. Nothing came.

 

His mind said  _ do it!  _ but his fingers didn’t move. The paralysis of sudden anxiety bubbling to the surface held him back. He could feel his throat constricting, his felt chest squeezing together, and his breaths were shaky and erratic; deep and shallow all at once. A pit formed in his stomach.

 

Phil laid back, his eyes fixed up at the ceiling, his phone laying next to him, the light of it shining through the dimness of his bedroom. His fingernails dug into his palms, and all color drained from his face. A few thin tears trickled down his cheeks. His mind raced and he hated every moment of it. He became lightheaded, room spinning; specks of black swam across his eyes. Vision became tunneled. Hands made their way up, clawing at his chest. His throat overflowed with a sob that was unable to escape. 

 

He laid there for a while, his whole body paralyzed by pain. His chest ached because of his shallow breaths; his stomach was in tight knots and his fingertips felt like they were being pricked by pins. Blood pounded in his ears, and he was unable to escape the inevitable thoughts that kept punching him in the gut. Thoughts of  _ you know he’ll say no _ and  _ you don’t deserve a second chance, you don’t deserve him  _ flashed past him and made him tread deeper in his subconscious. 

 

By far the worst part was that he couldn’t escape it; there was nowhere to go, nowhere safe he could run to and try to calm himself down. Dan could very well say no and Phil would have to watch Dan find someone else and fall in love all over again. 

 

Phil would be happy for him, of course. He wanted nothing more than for Dan to be happy. He wouldn’t deny the emptiness he would feel, but he’d rather live a life with a missing piece and see Dan happy with someone else.

 

It was all his fault he felt this way. Everything was his fault.

* * *

 

It lasted almost twenty minutes, and when Phil was finally calm enough, all of his energy was drained. 

 

He had panic attacks semi-often, but they were usually small and could be contained quickly. Attacks like this were rare, and were the result of pent up anxiety that he could’ve been holding in for months. 

 

Phil was coming down from his panic, the after effects beginning to show. His head pounded, and his eyes were slightly puffy from the little bit of crying he did. He never meant to cry during panic attacks, but they were an involuntary side effect he couldn’t help. He picked up his phone from it’s resting place, unlocking it and finding that it was still fixed on the place he’d left it. 

 

The little blue line in the message bar blinked, waiting patiently for something to be typed. It was like it was mocking him. Beckoning Phil to have the courage to press send. The back and forth argument started up again, and he could feel his anxiety slowly building once more. 

 

Before the agonizing panic returned, he typed the message, tightly closed his eyes, and sent it. He locked his phone again. Phil didn’t want to look. 

 

_ Phil: do you wanna maybe make that dinner a date? an actual date? _

 

Phil regretted it. Phil regretted sending it. He hated himself for ruining the progress they made, he hated himself for being so damn selfish. He hated himself for being so impatient and rushing this. He felt like nothing less than an irritating burden to Dan. His eyes welled with tears and he could feel another attack forming. 

 

His phone beeped, and the anxiety stopped abruptly. He fumbled for it as soon as the  _ ding!  _ sound began, unlocking it and skimming over the words Dan wrote in his reply. His eyes widened.

 

_ Dan: i mean, yeah sure, why not lol? you better bring me flowers _

 

Phil didn’t blink for a while. He wanted the moment to last as long as possible. Another message came.

 

_ Dan: and since this is a date and you asked me out, why don’t you pick the restaurant?  _

 

Phil swore he was in a dream. A dream he never wanted to wake up from. Was this real? He suddenly remembered he had to respond.

 

_ Phil: that’s fine! i’ll get back to you in a little bit with the restaurant and the time _

 

_ Dan: sounds good _

 

It was over almost as soon as it began. Phil was whiplashed. He set his phone back in its place, blinked a few times, and laid back down over top his duvet. He was anxious for nothing, and he panicked only for it to work out in his favor. He was half tempted to get up and pour himself a drink. The occasion called for it, after all.

 

Cheers to second first dates.


	5. only seeing myself when i'm looking up at you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so im p sure this is probably the worst chapter yet and it drags a LOT so bear with me please i promise it'll get better

Dan sat in silence for a few moments after their texts were exchanged. The whole situation was so unreal he was absolutely certain his consciousness conjured it up in desperation. He read and reread the messages ten times before it finally sunk in that he had a date. A date with _Phil_.

 

What the hell was he doing? He knew he was just setting himself up for more heartbreak. More anguish, more tears, more longing for something he once had but couldn’t anymore.

 

There was something in him that kept him from saying no, though. Something that encouraged him to take the chance. He didn’t have much else to lose, he lost all of it months ago when he walked out. There would be heartbreak if this didn’t work out, of course, but it wouldn’t even come close to the misery he’d suffered when they first split.  

 

Plus, Phil was the one asking, after all, so he must feel the same way. Dan knew he did. Did he? His anxiety began to creep in and get to him. Dan didn’t even realize that he’d spent twenty minutes internalizing it until his phone went off again. He figured Phil picked a restaurant.

 

_Phil: do you want to go to ledbury?_

 

Dan’s jaw went slack. Ledbury was a restaurant they’d dine at if they had close company over—like Phil’s mum and dad, or close friends that were visiting from out of town. It was also a restaurant they reserved for special occasions, like anniversaries and Valentine’s Day. What was Phil trying to get at?

 

_Dan: a little pricey, yeah?_

 

The prices weren’t ridiculous, but definitely not a restaurant he thought Phil would pick for their first date.

 

Their _actual_ proper first date was at a cheap little dive in Manchester in the middle of Autumn that served the best comfort food Dan ever had. They giggled their night away, exchanging suggestive glances and picking off of each other’s plates. It was heaven on earth for an eighteen-year-old Dan.

 

_Phil: cmon, we haven’t been there in forever! i want to treat you. how many second chances at first dates can you get?_

 

Dan chuckled at that, grinning down at his phone and trying to keep the blush from creeping up from his chest and to his cheeks. Good to know that Phil could still make him blush.

 

_Dan: alright...if you insist. what time?_

 

_Phil: does saturday night at 6:30 work?_

 

It was Thursday. That give them a two day buffer period to emotionally prepare. That was a weird thing for Dan to have to think about; emotionally preparing for a date with Phil. It was like he was emotionally preparing for the worst. The pessimist in him told him that it wouldn’t go so well.

 

_Dan: sounds perfect, see you then_

 

_Phil: see you, don’t think i’ve forgotten about the flowers_

 

The blush finally seeped onto Dan’s cheeks, making them hot and saturating them a gentle shade of cranberry. He let himself fall back on his bed, finally able to evaluate the mess he’d gotten himself into.

 

Why’d he agree to this? He’d have to sit through a painfully long dinner and drink dry wine that he never really liked anyway. He’d also have to dig through his drawers and find something dressy and nice to wear so he could look presentable at an upscale restaurant. It was all utterly inconvenient, but he wasn’t too upset about it.

 

Maybe deep down he knew that he was just as desperate as Phil was to try and make things work. To try and make things _normal_ again.

 

If he had to dress nice and drink wine that would make him parched to make things normal, then so be it.

  
  


Dan stood in front of his mirror, buttoning up a white dress shirt he hadn’t worn in a long, long time. He adjusted the collar, smoothing down the minor wrinkles and fixing his sleeves. The jacket that went with it was draped on his bed.

 

Dan had forgotten how long it had been since he’d dressed up nice to go somewhere. His memory had almost burned out the once treasured moments of him getting dressed for anniversary dinners or red carpet events or movie premieres with Phil. Memories he once swore he’d cherish forever were buried deep down, kept in a box in his mind that he swore would hurt him if he opened.

 

He was nervous. His stomach was tied in knots, and it only grew worse when he slipped his phone into his pocket so he could leave. It became real at that point. It hit him that he was _actually_ going out on a date with Phil; that they were going to sit down, and eat dinner, and talk to each other, like a couples on dates do. Like they used to do.

 

He slowly made his way out of his apartment building, doing up the first two buttons of his blazer.

 

The walk to the restaurant was worse. His legs were trembling so much that Dan was certain he’d trip and fall and humiliate himself before he even had the chance to get to the damn restaurant. He started to overthink.

 

Would Phil be standing outside, or would he be sitting inside in the waiting area? What if Dan was underdressed? What if he was overdressed? What if Phil stood him up and left him there for hours, stranded, humiliated?

 

Dan shook his head quickly, scrunching his face and trying desperately to rid himself of the thoughts. He didn’t need them, not now.

 

Seeing the sign of the restaurant was enough to make Dan want to cry.

 

It was always a symbol of a good night ahead. A special event usually; maybe an anniversary or celebration of some sort. It typically meant a cheesy dinner with soft glances and grins, holding each other’s hand across the table and sitting in a couple’s booth, glued together and connected by the hip. When they’d get home, they would cuddle and watch a movie on Netflix; love making was after that. Now it was nothing more than bittersweet. Dan opened the heavy glass door.

 

Phil turned his head to face the sound, standing up as soon as he realized it was Dan. He smoothed down his trousers, lips curled into a smile. If Dan hadn’t taken the time to really look at him, he wouldn’t’ve noticed the anxiety on Phil’s face. He was relieved to know that Phil was nervous too. Made him feel less alone.

 

“You didn’t bring flowers.” Dan noted, smirking and folding his arms. Phil closed his mouth and sulked in defeat.

 

“I thought it was just a joke between us, I-I didn’t actually think you were serious.”

 

Dan shook his head quickly, flashing him a reassuring smile and sputtering a laugh. He should’ve known not to joke; when Phil was highly anxious he took everything to heart. “No, no, it’s okay. I was only kidding, don’t worry.”

 

He could see Phil relax slightly, his normal stature starting to return. He finally let out the breath he’d been holding. “Good,” he began, “I got here a bit early, so we already have our table. Forgive me if I forget the way.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes and snorted. Typical Phil. Though, little quirks like that were some of the reasons why Dan loved Phil so much. Loves Phil so much. Dan hated thinking of his love for him in past tense. It wasn’t like he ever fell out of love with Phil.

 

Their table already had a bottle of wine on it, accompanied by a pair of glasses and menus placed delicately on top of placemats. At least Phil managed to get a booth, albeit a much bigger one and not a couple’s booth.

 

Dan adjusted himself as he slid in, setting his hands on the table and folding them. He avoided looking at Phil across from him, not wanting to make things awkward so soon. He’d let Phil start the conversation.

 

“You look nice,” Phil commented, leaning on his hand.

 

This was already unbearable for Dan. It was painful, almost—how did they let themselves be reduced to this? Reduced to small talk that couples who hardly knew each other would participate in, at a restaurant they used to go to when they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

 

“Thank you,” he replied with a smile, filling his glass with the wine provided, “you do too.”

 

Their waiter was their savior as soon as he came. It allowed them both to be rescued from the passionless pit that was their small talk, as well let them get the ordering out of the way. After the man left, though, it was back to square one.

 

It was silent again. It was Dan’s turn now.

 

“Why such a fancy place?”

 

The phrase made Phil chuckle and caused his cheeks to flood with color. He sipped his wine to try and mask it.

 

Phil shrugged. “Nothing but the best,” he answered, “go big or go home, I guess.”

 

Dan kept his eyes on him, nodding. He looked down for a moment. “I’m not sure what to talk about.”

 

He could hear Phil let out a breath and laugh a little bit. “Me neither.”

 

They both laughed at themselves. Real, genuine, tension-free laughter. The curtain of rigidity between them dropped almost instantly. Things hadn't changed after all. It was a relief to them both that they could still relax around each other. Who knew an admission to the awkwardness between them would cause them both to loosen up?

 

Dan could feel Phil’s foot softly bump against him under the table. It was barely a brush, but it was enough for Dan to notice. He decided to ignore it.

 

“We haven’t done this in ages,” Phil said, taking another sip of his wine, “and I think the last time we did I spilled your drink all over your shirt.”

 

Dan had to think for a moment before he recollected the event. He stifled a laugh under his breath. “That stain never came out, you know.” He flashed Phil a sideways grin. “You owe me a new shirt.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head at him. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say.”

 

A sort of sadness settled between them. The residual _the last time we did this, we were happy_ melancholiness they didn’t want to acknowledge. At the same time, though, they both realized that they had no choice. It left them both feeling dejected and sorrowful; frigid. It was an unspoken feeling that they knew the other was also experiencing, but didn’t want to recognize.

 

Their food came, and Phil’s foot hadn’t moved away from near Dan’s. In fact, it shifted more towards him, bumping into Dan’s again and again, over and over. He knew exactly what Phil was doing, and it made his stomach fill with butterflies like the first time they’d done this, back in Manchester on that crisp Autumn evening. It was like Dan was a teenager again.

 

It became a date night ritual to play footsie with each other. A private flirtatious habit, just something they always did to remind themselves of each other’s presence. They’d giggle like schoolboys and stare at each other for longer than they’d want to admit; drifting up each other’s legs slowly under the table. Sometimes they’d make it dirty, going so far as to snake their leg up to the other’s thigh and rub against it teasingly; giving a little sneak peak of an even more playful night ahead.

 

Dan’s mouth curled up into a small smile, trying his best not to make it too wide. He’d give himself away. He retaliated Phil’s tease, tapping at Phil’s ankle and smirking, eyes now on Phil’s face.

 

God, he missed this. He could feel Phil go up his leg slowly, coming back down and patting Dan’s ankle with the tip of his shoe. The friskiness of their former selves came to surface, and the past seemed to dissipate around them. It was like everyone else disappeared, and they were the only two in the world.

 

It was nice to have that feeling again. Nice to know they could still accomplish that feeling.

  


Dan didn’t want their date to end by the time it actually did. He was having such a good time laughing and smiling with Phil that it’d completely slipped his mind that the date had to end sometime. It didn’t even register that it was ending when they’d paid and gotten up. Dan was certain that the night was far from over, but to his dismay, they weren’t walking back to their shared apartment. Phil was walking him home.

 

“Thanks for dinner,” Dan said, walking beside Phil, hands in his pockets, “it was amazing.”

 

Phil smiled down at the pavement below him, looking back up to Dan before he replied. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

 

Dan pursed his lips, laughing to himself. “I had a better time than I thought I would.”

 

Phil stifled a laugh, tilting his head back and nodding, grinning to himself. “Yeah. Me too. Thought this was going to be a disaster.”

 

Dan laughed this time, his eyes crinkling up, unable to hide the wide smile dancing across his face. It went back to silence after a few minutes.

 

“Phil?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What are we?”

 

The question hung in the air around them for what seemed like hours. It lingered, it’s presence always there, but Phil didn’t want to acknowledge it. It was a question he hoped to avoid for as long as possible, or at least until Dan told him what they were. He never did like making big decisions like this. He had to answer sometime.

 

“I-I dunno,” he stuttered, “what do you want us to be?”

 

Now it was Dan’s turn, and _he_ didn’t want to answer. It was a game of back and forth, neither of them wanted to answer the question, but both of them knew they had to. Dan was hoping Phil would for him, as did Phil vice versa. Dan swallowed thickly, a weight pressing on his chest.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Silence again.

 

“I don’t want to be friends.”

 

Phil looked up at him slowly. “You want to be more than friends…?”

 

Dan took a while to answer. There was a part of him that didn’t _want_ to answer, that wasn’t ready to admit that yes, he so desperately wanted Phil to be more than just a friend, he wanted to be able to _love_ him again, wake up to Phil beside him again. But the other half of him that screamed _say yes you dumbass!_ overpowered the fear.

 

“Yes.”

 

Phil looked back down at the ground, trying to conceal his relief. “Me too.”

 

Dan didn’t know why he was so relieved. Deep down he knew Phil felt the same way, he did ask him out on a date, after all. He knew it was just the fear messing with him. It was still nice to get a confirmation that told him Phil was still the same.

 

“I hope it won’t be awkward anymore, then. Or, at least not as awkward.”

 

Phil laughed, a real, deep laugh, one that made the ground vibrate underneath him. It was a laugh that turned into a few high pitched squeaks, his tongue poking out through his teeth. It was a laugh that Dan didn’t realize he missed so much until he saw Phil doing it. It made his heart ache.

 

“Wow, calling me out here.” Phil said, sticking his hands back into his pockets. “We’ll just have to take it slow, I guess.”

 

They reached Dan’s building, walking in and pressing the button for the lift. Dan selected his floor and up they went, their minutes together dwindling. This was the most foreign part; they hadn’t parted ways after a date in almost ten years. It seemed alien; unnatural, like they were doing something wrong. Neither of them wanted to part, but it was inevitable.

 

Dan fumbled with his keys at the door, opening it slightly ajar and flicking on the light from the wall.

 

“I had a great night.” Phil finally broke the silence that once again fell between them. It was almost as though they were both afraid to speak. Afraid ruining everything.

 

Dan nodded, stepping into his flat but standing at the door frame. “Hey, Phil?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Dan chuckled quietly, looking down at the carpeting that lined the hallway and wrapped his arms around himself tightly. “You don’t need to take me out to a super expensive restaurant to try and impress me.” He started. “Don’t worry about presentation. I’d be more than happy to just play Mario Kart and eat pizza while we’re in our pajamas.” He wanted to add _like we used to_ , but something in him stopped him.

 

Phil grew a half smile, nodding, his fingers playing with themselves like they usually did when he was anxious. “Gotcha,” he replied, stepping away from Dan’s door, preparing to turn around and walk away, “I’ll remember that for next time.”

 

Dan chuckled again, flickering his eyes up from the floor and back to Phil. “And don’t forget the flowers.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Dan.”

 

Dan smirked, closing the door of his apartment slowly and letting it click. Phil walked down the hall, taking his time, pressing the button for the elevator once he’d gotten there.

 

He had to go slow. _They_ had to go slow. Phil wrestled with the fact that they wouldn’t go back to normal for a while, and that this truly was a do-over. Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter. Phil didn’t care how slow they had to go or how long it would take, they were both willing to patch things and make everything better, and that’s all that mattered. Phil just wanted an outcome that ended with them being, _normal_ again. He didn’t care how long it took.

 

Phil walked out of Dan’s building, looking up at the little glimmer of light that he knew was Dan’s flat. He raised his hand to his lips, blowing a kiss, smiling up at the balcony. His eyes lingered and didn’t want to leave.

 

He turned around and began the walk back to his own apartment.


	6. an ode to the boy i love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the delay! school started for me and was a little stressful and hectic.
> 
> also sorry if this is super badly written or is rushed, but either way i genuinely hope you enjoy it!

_ Dan: so like, does this make us boyfriends now? _

 

Dan was fidgeting in his place. He absentmindedly picked at the corners of his fingernails, already regretting sending the text so early. They’d only been doing this,  _ thing _ , for about a month now, surely the question was much too early to be asked.

 

At the same time, though, the exhilaration reminded Dan of when they first started doing something like this. The first first time. The tension and the longing was very reminiscent of back when they’d first met and everything was new and exciting. He felt a little guilty for enjoying the feeling.

 

_ Phil: do you want to be boyfriends? _

 

Dan pursed his lips for a moment before feverishly typing a reply.

 

_ Dan: i asked you first _

 

Phil replied quickly, as though he knew exactly what Dan would say and already had an answer prepared.

 

_ Phil: i asked you second _

 

Typical. Typical both of them; of  _ course  _ neither of them would want to answer it outfront. If they were face to face Dan knew they’d end up playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who answered. 

 

Dan hesitated. They were doing so well; their little dates were going great, they were getting along just fine, and Dan could feel Phil start to try and grab his hand. He’d always pull away, though. Anxiety, Dan guessed. He didn’t mind.

 

_ Dan: i think i do _ ,  _ yeah _

 

For a solid ten seconds, Dan panicked. It was like he was outside of his body but simultaneously still inside it all at once. He only whizzed back to reality when he could feel his throat constrict and heard his phone ding.

 

_ Phil: then i guess we’re boyfriends _

 

Dan didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he lurched to gasp one in. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to react. It was like the first time he kissed Phil on the wheel all those years ago; it came with a rush of euphoria, a tingling sensation making its way through his whole body and radiating electricity from his fingertips. Except now Phil wasn’t even in the same room with him, and a little text message was making him react this way. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve taken that as a good or a bad thing. 

 

_ Dan: am i still staying over tonight? _

 

He could practically hear Phil chuckle from through the phone; could picture his eyes rolling. 

 

_ Phil: of course. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i said no? _

 

The end of the message made Dan’s heart flutter. 

 

_ Dan: i’ll see you tonight, then! _

 

Even after Dan pressed the little button on the side of his phone, he still had the airy feeling he got whenever he looked at Phil like it was the first time. He didn’t want it to go away. 

 

And now he was staying over. He was going to sleep in Phil’s bed, the same bed they  _ used  _ to share, and he wasn’t sure if he should be excited or absolutely terrified or both. He was scared it wouldn’t feel,  _ right _ , anymore; that the spark the bed held from them was gone. 

 

Though, he was scared of that with a lot of things, and he was proven wrong every time. Hopefully this time would be the same. 

  
  
  
  


From the other side of the screen, Phil was giddy. He specifically avoided being the one to ask the dangerous question, typing it out many times but always deleting it after having second thoughts. Deep down he hoped Dan would ask it for him, and thankfully for him, Dan did. 

 

Phil was the one who asked Dan to stay overnight, though. That was something he had to really push himself to do, every fiber of his whole being told him no, but the miniscule part that said yes somehow convinced him to ask. Now he was only a few hours away.

 

Unlike most hosts, Phil didn’t bother cleaning too much. Sure, he made the bed and cleaned off the couch a little, rearranging the cushions so they’d look presentable, but he knew Dan wouldn’t care. They were anti-social nerds anyway, ones who rarely had any company, and Phil didn’t want to make Dan think he was “company”, because he wasn’t.

 

He was Phil’s boyfriend. 

 

The reality of the concept was still hitting him. Dan was his boyfriend,  _ again _ , for the second time. Though they’d gone through all the motions of milestones in a relationship once before, it felt like a whole round new first times. Phil had held Dan’s hand countless times, however he grew nervous at the thought of nonchalantly grabbing Dan’s hand like he used to. And then came the inevitable kiss, which petrified him even more. He knew exactly what Dan’s lips felt like, but somehow he’d forgotten at the same time. 

 

Phil wasn’t sure he’d go so far and take the leap of the kiss, but he’d make his goal to hold Dan’s hand, it was the very least he could do. He felt like a schoolboy all over again. 

 

Maybe they’d hold each other close, and dare he think, cuddle, like they used to do. Would Dan lay on Phil’s chest? Or would Phil end up spooning him, arm draped over Dan’s middle lazily, head tucked in his shoulder? The possibilities were endless. Perhaps they wouldn’t even get close at all, and just sleep back to back.

 

That was okay, too. They’d still be together, after all. They could always warm up to cuddling. And everything else.

 

Phil started to prepare himself for Dan’s arrival, though he knew it was of no use. Dan would always make his breath stop for a moment, no matter how much preparation he had beforehand.

  
  
  
  


Dan set his knuckles on the wood, knocking, the sound resonating inside the small hallway behind the door. He stood outside it for a few seconds, listening to the faint patter of Phil’s footsteps across the floor as he unlocked the bolt, the metal making a quiet clinking sound as it unlatched so Phil could open the door. 

 

They smiled at each other as soon as Phil pulled the door open, quickly embracing in a hug and stepping inside. The door clicked shut.

 

Dan held a little backpack with of a change of clothes, his toothbrush, and some deodorant, dropping it off in Phil’s bedroom. He lingered for a moment.

 

He walked in, closing the door just slightly so it would still be ajar, eyes bouncing off of the walls; onto the furniture and the lighting fixture and the mirror. 

 

Phil didn’t change the room at all. Well, he’d washed the sheets, but other than that, it was all exactly the same. The dresser and mirrors remained where they stood, unmoved by the pain of heartbreak; Phil kept them where they were. Every knick-knack they’d accumulated and collected over the years sat happily on the shelves, exactly as they put them when they were brought home. Nothing was touched, nothing was bothered or out of place. It made Dan feel more at home.

 

It was his home once, after all.

 

Dan walked over to the focal point of the space, the duvet done perfectly, the one pillow still creased where Phil slept. Dan sat down.

 

All he felt were cool sheets. It was just a bed. There was no lingering spark, no prolonged pull to the bed anymore; it was just a mattress and sheets and history. There was nothing left anymore. 

 

Dan stood up, fighting back the melancholy that wanted to spill out of his chest as he closed the door of the bedroom, walking down the hall to where Phil was in the lounge. 

 

“Room looks nice, by the way.” Dan commented, smirking to himself and sitting down next to him.

 

Phil smiled and turned his head to face him. “Washed the sheets earlier. They’ll smell nice. Didn’t want you to think I hadn’t washed them at all since the last time we slept in it.” Dan laughed at Phil’s response, cheeks glowing and his dimples popping out of his cheeks.

 

Dan mimicked him, setting his legs up on the coffee table and scooting closer to Phil, their thighs touching. 

 

“Did you eat?” Phil asked, inching his heel closer to Dan’s, brushing him. Dan nodded. 

 

“Yeah, I ate. Did you?” Dan turned his head back to look at him, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Yeah,” Phil chuckled, grinning to himself, “I was hoping you had eaten. I didn’t really feel like cooking or ordering anything.”

 

Dan laughed and furred his eyebrows, “Then why ask?”

 

Phil shrugged and his face grew a little smile. “I dunno. It would’ve been rude, wouldn’t it?”

 

Dan laughed and nodded, turning his head back. His eyes found themselves fixed on their feet on the coffee table, next to each other, orange and blue patterned socks pressed to all black ones.  

 

“It’s late,” Dan said, after a few minutes of silence. A nice silence, though; not at all awkward or brooding, one that contained pleasant quietness. A pause from talking to appreciate that they were together, enjoying the fact that they were sitting so close. Phil nodded after a moment. 

 

“It is.”

 

Dan played with his fingertips in his lap unknowingly, eyes slowly moving back to Phil. “Do you want to go lay in bed?”

 

Phil stifled a laugh and nodded, a sideways closed-mouth smile pulling at his cheeks. “Thought you’d never ask.”

 

Phil stood up, looking down at Dan and turning around as soon as he lifted from his seat.

 

Dan made the walk back to the bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest. The bed wasn’t the same. It wouldn’t ever be. The flame that once danced there was blown out, not even the trail of white-grey smoke was left. There was nothing, and his deep-rooted fear was now a reality. What if Phil still felt that spark, and it was only Dan that had lost it?

 

That was an even worse fear that he didn’t want to find the answer to. 

 

The great thing about choosing his apartment for their night together was that Phil didn’t have to worry about changing into his pajamas; he’d been wearing  _ Star Wars _ pajama pants for three hours already. Dan, on the other hand, had to take the change of clothes he’d brought in his backpack and get dressed, like it was a sleepover and he was twelve. 

 

“Nice shirt,” Phil commented as soon as Dan was decent, grinning and folding his arms, “I’ve been looking for it for a while.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes as he pulled the pair of baggy sweatpants up, smoothing them down and pulling his shirt out of the waistband. “Listen, I took an entire hoard of your shirts. I got lonely, okay?”

 

Phil laughed and tilted his head back for a moment, bringing his hands up and covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I understand, don’t worry. Smart, honestly. Wish I did something like that.” He walked over to the bed, pulling one of the corners of the duvet back and crawling in under it. Dan followed suit.

 

For a few minutes they laid there next to each other, eyes staring up at the ceiling or moving around the room. It was like they were an old sitcom couple, scripted to be six inches from each other perfectly, the duvet on their chests in the exact same spot, almost as though it was placed there on purpose. Neither of them quite knew what to do. Were they supposed to stay like this for the night, or roll on their sides and face each other, noses mere centimeters away?

 

Phil moved, finally, answering that question. He laid down on his side, facing Dan, smiling up at him and waiting for Dan to mirror what he’d done. It didn’t take long for Dan to be settled, hand under his pillow, face pointing toward Phil’s.

 

“Hi.” Dan spoke breathily, inching himself closer to him. Phil laughed quietly.

 

“Hi,” Phil whispered, flickering his gaze up and down Dan quickly before finding itself back on his face again, “how are you?”

 

It was Dan’s turn to laugh now. “I’m good. You?”

 

Phil shrugged and took Dan’s hand that was lying on the sheet in front of his face, slowly entwining their fingers and resting his own on Dan’s knuckles. He decided to get over the fear and dive headfirst. What a better time than now? “Better now that you’re here.”

 

Dan didn’t bother to try and suppress the blush that crept up into his cheeks at Phil’s reply. He let out a breath and his eyes softened. He moved closer to Phil, squeezing his hand before pulling it away. He draped his arms over Phil’s shoulders, tucking himself in the crook of Phil’s neck. “You’re warm.”

 

Phil smiled to himself, easing around him and wrapping his arms under Dan’s, across his back. He slowly moved off of his side so Dan could lay on his chest. 

 

Phil was glad they didn’t lay there indifferent to each other. He was happy Dan wanted to get close and sleep together.  _ Together  _ together, not backs to each other and completely ignoring the other’s presence. 

 

Dan missed this. He missed lying awake and being able to be held, and warm, and feel protected. He missed Phil. He lowered himself down onto his chest, curls unfurling out on Phil’s skin, retaking his hand, rubbing his fingers on the back of it delicately. 

 

“Phil?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Was he better than me?”

 

It took a second for Phil to realize who Dan was talking about. He shifted his head, looking down at Dan now. “The guy I saw after you?”

 

Dan nodded. “Yeah. Was he better than me?”

 

Phil shook his head and slowly ran his fingers through Dan’s hair. “No. Not even remotely close,” he focused on Dan’s doughy eyes staring up at him, “he was very nice but, it just, wasn't right.” He turned his head back. “It wouldn’t’ve worked out. He wanted something serious and, it wasn’t like I wouldn’t want that, he just—” He cut himself off with a sigh. “He wasn’t you.”

 

Dan stared up at him and all he wanted to do was grab Phil’s cheeks and kiss him until his breath couldn’t be held anymore. He decided to wait. “Good to know.” He breathed out, halfway to crying. It was a question that was on his mind frequently, one that he’d been meaning to ask for ages but just never got around to. Phil’s answer was more than perfect. 

 

In turn, Dan began to notice something.

 

The bed suddenly had the spark again. It slowly grew, but it became red hot quickly and it took all but three seconds for Dan to notice it. It started in his chest, spiraling out of his body through his fingertips, making his heart sink in the best way possible. 

 

He didn’t feel a spark before because it became nothing more than a beacon of the past; the one thing that knew all of the most intimate things they’d done together. But now, as he laid on it, comfortably on Phil’s chest, it was what it used to be. 

 

Dan brought their hands up close to him, pressed the back of Phil’s hand to his lips, and closed his eyes.


	7. baby heaven's in your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this isn't my best work. this is basically a filler chapter so i can get to the REALLY good stuff. im so sorry if this drags or seems super rushed/short!!! i promise the next chapters will be a loooot better.

Dan hadn’t been in his apartment for more than a few hours in over a week. 

 

He’d go for a little while; hang out there for a couple of hours before ultimately texting Phil and packing a bag so he could spend the night. To say that Dan was spending more and more time with Phil would be a vast understatement.

 

He even had a little drawer of his things in Phil’s bedroom, rising their relationship up to ‘super official’ status now. It was like they were teenagers dating in high school.

 

Or, better yet, like it was the very beginning again. It was very reminiscent of 2009, after all; the drawer, the nervousness, the  _ everything  _ was enough to give Phil flashbacks to when Dan was shorter than him and far too shy to actually ask for the things that Phil was happy to give him, like the drawer. Now it was just this unspoken thing. Of course Dan was spending the night, why wouldn’t he be?

 

Phil loved it. Phil loved Dan being so needy and desperate to see him that he couldn’t go more than two days without coming over to the flat and spending the night. It made Phil feel wanted, made him feel needed. Made Phil feel  _ normal  _ again.

 

So, naturally, Dan was laying in Phil’s bed for the third night that week, his head on Phil’s shoulder as they watched an episode of an anime they’d recently started, Phil’s laptop balanced on the blankets in front of them. So much for taking things slow.

 

Things were still slow, though. They were hardly holding hands, and even kissing seemed too dangerous to try. Phil had meant to do it on a handful of occasions but could never bring himself to see it through. The anxiety of ruining the moment and having to sit through being awkward again was enough to make him rethink. He was determined to do it soon, though. His head shouted ‘ _ tonight!’  _ but his anxiety forced it down. 

 

Dan yawned. It was late; the sun had long crawled back over the horizon to make way for the night, and he’d been there for a few hours already. His schedule tended to move like so: get up, go back to his apartment, water his plants, sit on his sofa, get bored, go back to Phil’s. It was a cycle they’d go through every day, but it wasn’t like either of them minded. It seemed like they were back to being connected at the hip. 

 

As the credits rolled on the episode, Phil noticed Dan’s sleepiness, his eyes diverting down to him. The poor boy was nodding out, jumping awake at every slightly loud noise from the anime. “I think this is the last one for tonight.” Phil said, clicking off of Crunchyroll and closing his laptop. 

 

“Aw, c’mon Phil,” Dan smiled tiredly, his eyes half-lidded, “I’m fine, really.” 

 

Phil shook his head and set him down delicately on the pillows, crawling to the side of his bed and setting his laptop back down on the nightstand and plugging it in to charge. “You’re practically half asleep!” He squeaked. “You can’t even keep your eyes open.”

 

Dan sat up and looked at him, leaning on his elbows and watching Phil come back to his side. “Oh, shut up,” He grumbled, laying himself back down on Phil’s shoulder, “I wanna stay awake.”

 

Phil shrugged, yawning himself and pulling the duvet up a little farther. “That’s fine,” he answered, “but when you fall asleep I’ll be the one saying ‘I told you so’ in the morning.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes and sighed, not saying anything for a few minutes. They were with their own thoughts for a moment, and it was nice. They both acknowledged it subconsciously, but decided to do nothing about it. They had things to think about, and it was best to just let them simmer now before they talked for a little bit.

 

Phil needed to kiss him. It had to come someday, and he had so many moments recently when he could have,  _ should have _ , done it, but just, didn’t. Maybe it would be tonight. Yes, tonight, somehow they’d get to talking and the moment would be absolutely perfect and Phil would lean in and their eyelashes would flutter against each other’s cheeks and—

 

Maybe not tonight. The nerves began to bubble in Phil’s chest. 

 

But if not tonight, when?

 

Dan had his own things to worry about. Not necessarily a kiss like on Phil’s end, but something arguably far more intimate. Neither of them had said ‘I love you’ yet. Not even a playful ‘love you babe’. It seemed as if they were both too scared to mutter those three sacred words. But why? It wasn’t like it was a blatant  _ lie _ . Dan was still very much in love with Phil, he never fell  _ out  _ of love, in fact. And he was certain neither had Phil.

 

He still avoided saying it, though. He’d part his lips to say it and have it in his head but would never be able to spit it out. It was like it was constantly at the ends of his lips, but there was an invisible force that was keeping him back.

 

He took a deep breath for a moment. Fuck that force, it was time. He’d waited long enough. He closed his eyes.

 

“I love you, Phil.”

 

Phil took longer than he probably should have to think of a response, and even longer to actually get it out.

 

Had Dan actually just said that? Or was he dreaming? It was as if he heard the words come out of his mouth but his mind simply didn’t want to believe that it actually happened.

Dan tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. The fact that Phil had taken so long to mutter a simple  _ I love you too _ was telling. Perhaps he was overthinking. Perhaps he wasn’t.

 

Phil furrowed his eyebrows and moved his head down to look at him. He blinked. “I..” He couldn’t get it out for a moment, the words caught in his throat and refusing to budge. “I love you too, Dan.” It was a jittery, skittish little reply; like he was a teenaged boy and it was his first boyfriend.

 

Dan wasn’t wholly convinced. He settled back down onto Phil’s shoulder and stared out at the wall adjacent to him, debating on whether or not he should open his mouth back up again and reply. Truthfully, he was trying not to cry. It sure sounded like Phil didn’t mean what he said at all. Maybe he really was overthinking.

 

“Do you?”

 

Phil’s hands rubbed over Dan’s shoulders lightly, his mind screaming ‘ _ now!’  _ He didn’t process the fact that Dan didn’t believe him until a few seconds later, and it stung. Carefully, he leaned in closely to Dan, foreheads nearly flush together.

 

Phil made his voice barely a whisper purposely, wanting Dan and  _ only _ Dan to hear what he was about to say. “I love you more than literally anything.”

 

He let it simmer between them for a few seconds, and could hear the sound of Dan’s lips parting so he could reply. 

 

“Promise?”

 

Again, Phil let it sit. He didn’t react right away, he didn’t even make a facial expression. Nothing changed; he was as stagnant as a pond at midnight. It was steely and deadly quiet, they could hear each other’s heartbeats.

 

Phil took his other hand, lifted up Dan’s chin, and leaned down into him. The whole process took less than fifteen seconds, but it might as well have been a whole eternity.

 

Dan had nearly forgotten what kissing Phil was like. And even more bittersweet was what this kiss made him feel. He wasn’t in Phil’s bedroom anymore; he was suddenly in Manchester, and it was a chilly October day, and they were on the Manchester Eye. Dan was leaned into him, his long fringe covering his eyes adorably, and Phil was smitten.

 

Except they weren’t in Manchester. Dan pulled away.

 

“That never gets old,” he breathed, his doughy eyes looking right up at Phil, his hand pressed against his pec, the other one tangled in Phil’s hair at the back of his head. Dan had to catch his breath, chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. 

 

Phil’s heartbeat was still throbbing in his fingers. “Don’t ever doubt that I don’t love you,” he too struggled to regulate his breathing, his chest heaving with every inhale, “the amount of love I have for you would make the distance to the moon seem miniscule in comparison.”

 

The sentence itself was so beyond cheesy and cliché, and made Dan internally shake his head and go  _ ‘damned English degree’ _ . On the outside, though, he was a puddle in Phil’s fingers. He shoved his face into Phil’s shoulder. 

 

“I hate you.” He groaned, voice muffled. A little smile peeked through across his cheeks that were squished against the inside of Phil’s shoulder.                                       

 

Phil chuckled and clucked his tongue. “Why is that?”

 

Dan rolled his head over and yawned, breathing out through his nose and letting his eyes slowly shut. “Because you’re perfect.”

 

Phil shook his head, leaned over and kissed Dan’s cheek, and fell asleep.


	8. let me be everything that you need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains sexual themes and scenes, please do not read if you are uncomfortable!
> 
> this chapter is like, rough. like, as in really bad. this is my first time actually writing a smutty fic, and the fact that im posting it is so nerve wracking. anyway, this chapter is literally so bad and i CANNOT write smut but nonetheless i hope you enjoy!!

They were kissing. Hard. Dan was pressed to the hallway wall, Phil’s knee wedged between his legs. Neither of them were quite sure how it started, but it didn’t matter. Both of them were rendered paralyzed from any rational thoughts; it was all just wandering fingers and muffled, desperate whimpers now. 

 

Dan’s one hand was wound in Phil’s hair, resting on the back of his neck. His other was drifting down to the hem of Phil’s shirt, fingers popping open the buttons. Phil, meanwhile, slowly pulled Dan from the wall and started to drag him down the corridor, their lips still connected. They were drunk off of each other and they hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol. 

 

Phil pulled away finally, having to be able to pull open his door and push Dan through it so they could make their way to the bed. Dan was disoriented for a moment, his pouty cranberry lips finding their way to Phil’s neck and peppering kisses all the way down to his collarbone. 

 

Dan was on autopilot. It wasn’t a scene that he was unfamiliar with at all, it had happened all the same before. He body reacted without him having to think; it just  _ did.  _ His fingers pushed open Phil’s button-down as soon as the collar was popped, pulling off his shirt and letting it fall to the floor.

 

Phil kicked the bedroom door shut with his foot, forcing Dan back and watching him fall onto the bed with a thump, the duvet dipping with Dan’s weight. Phil didn’t waste much time in falling down with him, holding himself above Dan’s face. Within an instant they were kissing again, Dan’s hands on Phil’s cheeks and his legs wrapped around Phil’s waist. 

 

Phil’s hands found their way down to Dan’s belt, fumbling messily with the buckle and pulling it through the loops of his jeans as soon as it was loose enough to come free. Dan’s trousers were pulled off without even an afterthought, Phil’s one hand under Dan’s knee, the other down in his boxer shorts. 

 

Dan, the moment he could feel Phil’s hand snake under the elastic waistband, withdrew his lips and scrunched up his face, letting out little huffs of breath with quiet moans weaved through them. Phil’s fist was curled tightly around Dan’s cock, his eyes drifting from Dan’s face to down between his legs, where his wrist was slowly pumping under Dan’s black boxers. 

 

Dan finally let his eyes open just a tad, still remaining half-lidded. He moved himself closer into Phil’s touch, leaning up and letting himself drape on Phil’s shoulder. Dan’s hands ghosted down to Phil’s own jeans, beginning to undress him now, though not at the speed he wanted to move. Phil’s hand was down his pants, after all. He shuddered once Phil’s thumb swiped over his tip; just a little tease, a preview of what was to come. Dan almost lost it at that, and they’d hardly even begun.

 

Phil paused once he noticed Dan toiling away at his belt buckle, quickly removing his hand from Dan’s underwear and throwing his belt down with the rest of their discarded clothes. Dan, still reeling from Phil’s all too brief touch, was nearly rendered incapacitated. He was a shaky, nervous mess; like he was a hormonal teenager being touched by a longer-haired Phil again.

 

Phil leaned over him, arm outstretched and reaching for something in the drawer of his bedside table. He looked down at Dan, letting himself chuckle and grow a grin. “Just grabbing some stuff,” he finally sat back, holding a brightly colored bottle and a square of shiny packaging, “pants off, please?”

 

At this point Dan’s whole face, as well as a significant portion of his chest, were flushed a deep shade of scarlet. The little rosy patch on his cheek expanded and took hold of almost all of him. His hands pushed his boxer shorts down his legs, ankles kicking them off and down on the floor. He parted his knees instinctively, laying back, forearms under him so he could hold himself up.

 

The last time they did this it was the night before Dan left. It wasn’t supposed to happen, in fact they both were in agreement that they wouldn’t even  _ think  _ about something like that. Things escalated after a single little kiss, and the pent up desire and want for each other became so overwhelming that it had to be acted upon. It didn’t dawn on either of them that it would be their last time. 

 

Dan quickly became lost in his own thoughts. Was he really doing this? Where  _ they  _ really doing this? Maybe it was too soon. He dismissed the thought immediately. They’d waited long enough.

 

Did they, though? By now he was swimming in an ocean of doubt, the water getting deeper and darker the farther he went. What was once arousal and excitement now turned to debilitating fear and uncertainty. His mind convinced him it would be different. It wouldn’t be the same as it was; Phil wouldn’t like it, he’d hate everything about sex with Dan and they’d be done for good. 

 

Phil had taken a few minutes to lubricate his fingers, moving his hand down to Dan and pressing into him slowly, going all the way up to his second knuckle before starting a steady pace. 

 

“Feel so good, baby,” his tone was slightly lower than usual, smooth like melted milk chocolate. “Gonna feel so perfect wrapped around me.”

 

The words made Dan’s throat constrict. His skin crawled, it was like everything in him was saying that this was bad, that this was  _ wrong,  _ that he shouldn’t be doing this.  _ They _ shouldn’t be doing this. Dan’s heart pounded away in his chest, the panic that was rising in him threatening to explode out. 

 

He squirmed, head moving to the side. “No...” He gurgled, trying to resist everything. Not just Phil,  _ everything _ . From his nervousness to his crippling doubt. Phil glanced up at Dan briefly before lifting his eyes to Dan’s face. 

 

“You okay…?” He asked warily, tilting his head to one side.

 

“No!” Dan yelped, burying down the sob that was brewing in his throat. The fingers that were inside of him stopped. 

 

Phil retracted himself instantly, pulling away from Dan to give him space. He crawled up beside him, but still allowed a decent amount of space between them. He was afraid to speak, but at the same time didn’t want to watch Dan suffer in front of him. Something was obviously wrong, he just couldn’t piece together what it could possibly be. He did everything right; everything he thought Dan liked. The prospect that he was the reason Dan was so upset was enough to make Phil feel sick.

 

“Shh, Dan, it’s okay,” Phil cooed, his voice gentle and soothing. His hand cautiously rubbed over Dan’s back. “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.” He carefully pulled Dan’s body toward him as soon as Dan let him, holding Dan’s head to his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Dan sniveled and closed his eyes, taking long, skipping breaths, trying desperately to calm himself down. “I-I’m afraid,” he stuttered, words shaky and quiet, still laced with unrelenting distress. “I’m afraid this will ruin everything.”

 

Phil looked down at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “What will? Sex?” Dan gave him a hesitant little nod. “Aw, Dan,” he ran his fingers through Dan’s hair a few times, “we’ve had sex before, though. It won’t ruin everything, I promise.”

 

“How do you know?!” Dan snapped, tears finally coming down steadily. “What if you don’t like it anymore?” His voice was calmer, but was more melancholy. More fearful. “What if you don’t like it with  _ me  _ anymore? And it’s just, different?” He sunk back down, head pressed flush against Phil’s chest. “I’m afraid it won’t be the same.”

 

Phil sat there in silence for a long while. He never thought about any of what Dan was saying, because he never felt the need to. Why would he? He knew that it would be the same, it would still be passionate and hot and just as good as it was before, if not better. He never thought it wouldn’t be, but now Dan had him double guessing himself. He sighed out for a while before speaking. 

 

“If it’s not the same, we’ll figure out why it’s not.” Phil said, lifting Dan’s chin up with his fingers. “We can get through anything, Dan.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We got through six months of being broken up, and still managed to end up back together.” He laughed, sitting back against the headboard of his bed.

 

Dan laid on him for a while. He processed Phil’s words in his head, calming himself down by repeating them and listening to the sound of Phil’s heartbeat. It was the only thing that constantly reminded Dan that Phil was still there, still holding him, still loving him. 

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to have sex tonight, Dan.” Phil said, his hands finally moving from their stagnant place on Dan’s shoulders. “Don’t feel like you have to say yes.”

 

Dan shook his head quickly, lifting himself up and sitting on Phil’s lap. “I want to, I’m just…” He let his head fall. “I’m scared. I need a push.”

 

Phil leaned up to him, holding his arms around his waist. “I’m already on my back,” he said, laying down again, pushing a few pillows toward the headboard so he could remain angled up, “you can ride me, if you want.”

 

Dan lifted his head and nibbled on his bottom lip, nodding and thinking about it for a moment. “You wouldn’t mind?”

 

Phil sputtered a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Not at all baby. And take your time, don’t feel like I’m rushing you.”

 

Dan shyly nodded his head again, reaching over Phil and grabbing the lube and the condom from the nightstand. “Can you take off your boxers, please?” He asked, climbing off of Phil’s lap and laying down on his back so he could stretch himself out. Phil wasn’t all that successful at doing it himself, after all. 

 

At least this gave him time to focus on one thing. Dan worked one finger into himself, laying back against the sheets under him and breathing deeply out of his mouth. He fought from getting lost in his thoughts again, instead fixating on the feeling of one finger quickly becoming two inside of him. It became rhythmic; breathe out, move fingers, breathe in. Two became three.

 

Dan was done within ten minutes, opening his eyes and having to adjust to the brightness of the room. He didn’t even notice that Phil had taken the liberty of putting the condom on himself. 

 

“Whenever you’re ready.” Phil said, spreading a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers and pumping his hand over his cock. Dan smiled at him and shook his head endearingly, making his way back to his lap.

 

Dan reached down for his hand, taking it and entwining their fingers together, hips hovering right above Phil. ‘I love you’ He mouthed, free hand down steadying Phil’s base.

 

Phil grew the tiniest smile, mouthing ‘I love you too’ in response. Dan let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and lowered himself down.

 

For about a minute or so, it was uncomfortable. Dan wasn’t used to  _ this  _ kind of stretch; this was something no amount of fingering would prepare him for. He scrunched his face up, holding his breath, trying to adjust his hips and make the discomfort go away. Once he found that medium, though, it was heaven. Every ounce of nervousness and doubt melted away and were replaced with warmth. He breathed out delicately.

 

Dan began to rock his hips. He gradually built up a medium pace, letting go of Phil’s hand and setting both of his own hands on Phil’s chest. Dan even parted his lips to moan, letting out a long string of high-pitched breathy ones; desperate little whimpers that said  _ ‘more, god, more’ _ . 

 

Phil couldn’t concentrate on anything but the way Dan’s face looked as he bounced on him. It was a sight he would often find himself fantasising about; the way Dan’s pretty lips would fall open, the way his curls would fall in front of his face as he tilted his head back. Phil ran his hands over Dan’s thighs, setting them down on his sides. “Say my name.”

 

Dan picked his head up and looked down at Phil, a heat rising from his chest that flooded in his cheeks. “Phil…” He moaned, softly; the phrase was barely above a whisper. 

 

“Say it again.”

 

Dan bit his lip again, and by now they were red and plump and so used to being bitten that it didn’t even feel like anything anymore. “Phil…” Dan moaned once more, this time slightly louder.

 

The corner of Phil’s lips lifted into a half-smirk. “Say it again.” His voice still remained smooth and silky and effortless, eliciting a few breathy groans between Dan’s bounces. He moved his one hand down to Dan, rubbing over the tip and pumping his fist over Dan’s cock. “Say my name, Dan.”

 

Dan tightened around Phil, his thighs beginning to tremble. It didn’t take much to get him close to the edge, and after going almost nine months without having sex with Phil, he was surprised he hadn’t cum sooner. “Phil…!” He moaned out, much louder than the previous times. 

 

That did it. Without a shred of warning, it was ripping through him; Dan was moaning and whimpering and clawing his nails down Phil’s chest, leaving behind long red scratch marks. He trickled over Phil’s fingers, continuing to bounce on Phil’s lap so he could savor every moment.

 

It only took a few more minutes for Phil to reach his own peak, the buildup suddenly crashing down all at once. His breath hitched and he held onto Dan’s waist, his fingernails leaving little half-moon imprints in Dan’s skin. 

 

For a while the only sound in the room was of their heavy breathing. Dan pulled himself off of Phil, laying down on him out of exhaustion and pressing his forehead to Phil’s shoulder. Phil reached down and slowly rolled the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. 

 

Phil finally looked down at Dan, lifting his chin up and pressing a kiss to his lips, only for a moment. “Told you it would be the same.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes and ran his fingers over Phil’s collarbones, smiling stupidly to himself. “Shut up…” He grumbled, stuffing his face into the crook of Phil’s neck.

 

They didn’t move for the rest of the night. 


	9. forever is in your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, im really sorry if this is bad. i feel as though this chapter in particular is exceptionally shitty and i apologize if it drags or is overly short/rushed. i really tried my best. enjoy either way, though!

It’d been nine months since they’d gotten back together, and almost a year and a half since the initial split. Though, at that point, it just seemed like a distant memory. Things had gotten so back to normal that it was like a long bad dream that they simply woke up from. 

 

Dan moved out of his apartment, only to go back to their old shared one, like nothing ever happened. For the most part, there was no stain of the break up anywhere near them anymore.

 

Phil climbed out of bed, the room still dark and cold from the late Autumnal night. He found himself waking earlier and earlier; not out of insomnia, but because of the routine he’d created since Dan moved back in. Wake up, put the coffee on, set the mugs out, go back to bed. Typically the first part started at 6 am, but he was usually back in bed with Dan, arm over his middle, until at least 10. Phil didn’t really mind getting up so early to do a mundane domestic task; he quite liked getting to kiss Dan’s forehead before he walked out into the kitchen. 

 

He also liked how warm Dan would be when he would crawl back under to hold him. Phil would never get used that. 

 

Phil’s feet shuffled quietly across their bedroom floor, his arm reaching out and turning the doorknob. Phil was still half asleep at this point, and his body was running nearly autonomously, the only thought in his head being  _ ‘go back to bed!’  _ His eyes were half lidded, and the weariness from his fatigue only made the blurry mess he saw worse. He’d conveniently forgotten his glasses (for the third time that week), so he’d have to adjust and snap out of his drowsy state. 

 

He finally made his way to the kitchen, the room still dark and cold from the night. He flicked on the light, cringing at the brightness and adjusting his eyes, rubbing them with his palms. The sun hadn’t even roused itself awake, and yet Phil was as awake as he could possibly be at that hour, standing on frigid kitchen tiles, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard to set on the counter for him and Dan when they decided to have coffee later. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Phil scooped a few spoonfuls of coffee grounds into the filter perched in the machine, snapping the lid shut and placing the spoon in the sink. Phil turned around, flicked off the kitchen lights, and began to trudge down the hallway back to bed. The whole event took no more than four minutes.

 

Compared to the kitchen, their bedroom was a welcoming sight. Phil was crawling back under the covers with Dan almost as soon as he’d left them, tucking himself back into Dan’s warmth and nearly falling back asleep on the spot. He mentally cursed himself for remembering that he’d forgotten to set the sugar out. 

 

In a huff, he slipped right out of bed again, begrudgingly walking back to the kitchen so he could place the container of sugar next to their mugs. At this rate, he’d be better off just staying awake and not fighting to fall back asleep again. He sighed out as soon as he’d gotten to the kitchen again, not even needing to turn the light back on. The dim light of the dawn provided more than enough illumination for the simple task of taking the sugar out. 

 

He opened the cupboard back up, pulling out the sugar and setting it next to their mugs, triple checking to make sure that he could actually return back to bed without another interruption.

 

Phil walked back to the room, climbed under the duvet once more, and shut his eyes quickly. He wasn’t going to get up again any time soon.

 

* * *

 

It was 8 am. Phil was awake, not because he wanted to be, but because his body forced him to be. His mouth was parched and it demanded that he get up and get a drink, but he delayed his movement. He was just so damn comfortable, to have to get up again would be blasphemous. 

 

Phil swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up, but banging his knee on the bedside table next to him, causing a shooting pain to rip through his leg and causing the nightstand to shift. He screamed obscenities in his head, bending down and clutching his knee, turning around to check to make sure he hadn’t disturbed Dan with his clumsiness. 

 

Dan shifted, his body moving under the covers. Phil breathed out silently, tiptoeing out of the room to the bathroom so he could assess the damage. 

 

The sun was well up by this time, the apartment bright with early morning sunshine, the hallways cascaded with refracted Autumn light from the lounge. He opened the bathroom door, flipping the switch on the light and rolling his pajama pants up. There wasn’t much of a mark left on him just yet, but he knew that it would turn into a black-and-blue bruise in due time. He rolled his pants down, sighed, and walked back out to the kitchen for the third time that morning for a glass of water. 

 

Their coffee mugs stared at him smugly. He wasn’t supposed to see them again after initially setting them out, and the fact that this was the  _ third  _ time made him all the more irritated. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and enjoy his time with Dan before they woke, but it seemed as if the universe was out to thwart every chance Phil had at that.

 

Oh well. There was always the next morning, and the morning after that. 

 

Phil poured himself a glass of water, sipped it leisurely, and was off down the hall once more. He hoped for the last time that morning. He closed the bedroom door, again, and sat on the edge of the bed, taking off the glasses that he remembered to put on this time. He set them down on the nightstand that he ungraciously bumped into, and suddenly remembered something; something that seemed so distant now.

 

The ring. The ring that he’d bought for Dan and never gotten the chance to propose with. He planned to, but, their dilemma put that on hold indefinitely. 

 

The day Phil had gotten the ring was an icy Thursday in February. It was a bone-chilling day in London, and there was a dusting of frost on everything that the air touched. It was flurrying; little snowflakes stuck to Phil’s scarf and the hood of his coat, making his skin tone look all the more pale. 

 

The jewelry store was overwhelming, and as soon as Phil stepped in, he immediately wanted to turn around. The sheer thought of having to navigate rows and rows of sparkling jewelry for hours gave him anxiety. He powered on, though, and thankfully the man who scampered out behind the counter to help him was friendly. 

 

It took Phil nearly three hours to pick the ring. He wanted to get it perfect, wanted to get it just right, all the way down to the way the little diamonds imbedded in the band sparkled when the light hit them.

 

When he got home, he made a beeline for the bedroom, stuffing the little box into his nightstand drawer and desperately hoping Dan wouldn’t find it. Dan never did. 

 

Now, Phil was digging through the same drawer, pulling out the black velvet box without a sound. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Dan was still asleep, turning back around and opening the box inconspicuously. It was exactly the way it was the last time he stopped to look at it. Just as stunning and glittering as it was when he’d first brought it home. 

 

Phil could come up with a plan again. He could plan something in the very near future; a nice dinner out, perhaps, or maybe just a casual, cozy night in. He could plan it again. 

 

He shook his head and smiled to himself, turning to look back at Dan again, his cheek squished against the pillow, lips parted to let him breathe in deeply. He’d plan something later, not now. For now, he was going to wrap his arms around Dan and not wake up until at least 10:30.

 

Phil set the box back in the drawer, closed it, draped his arms around Dan, and went back to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading my badly written, dumb little fic. you have no idea how much it means to me that you (hopefully!) enjoyed it enough to read it all. i hope you had as much fun reading it as i had writing it! thank you so so much again!!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr! my url is @livingflop


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